


LokiXReader- Of Gods and Monsters

by Kipkat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers AU, F/M, Gen, Loki wasn't present for the Dark World because he eloped with the Tesseract, Rape/Non-con Elements, Tesseract, because he a slippery snek, because of Endgame, eventual trigger warning for sexual content, this fic took a darker turn than intended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2020-07-23 09:09:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20005831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kipkat/pseuds/Kipkat
Summary: Alternate Earth 2012, shortly after the Battle of New York, when Loki makes off with the Tesseract inEndgame. A covert government agency is putting together a taskforce of civilians to cope with the majority of their organization becoming public in the aftermath of the battle. Among their ranks is you, a college dropout with a variety of experiences under your belt. You have an incredible sense of intuition and a keen sense about people that has helped solve numerous crimes at the Rosemont Police Department. What happens when you meet  the God of Mischief face to face?Still being updated!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Hello! Starting a new fic to just kind of...let my brain have some freedom from everything else I'm trying to force myself to write. Apologies if this starts off a bit slow! It'll pick up, I promise. As always, I hope you enjoy!! <3 _
> 
> *EDIT 12/8/19* 
> 
> Hello, everyone! This note is for new readers! I just wanted to pop in to let you know that this fic took a darker turn than expected, and some elements down the line may not be suitable for some readers (a recent chapter contains non-con material.) I will always label graphic material in the pre-chapter notes, just so you're not caught too off-guard. That being said, thank you for stopping by, and I do hope you enjoy the fic!! <3 <3
> 
> *********************************************************************

The stony gray building looked exceptionally bleak this morning. Clouds the color of charcoal hung low in the sky, heavy with their watery burden, as faceless mobs of people clad in black filtered through the institutions' rotating doors at a ceaseless interval. 

Your eyes scanned the structure in front of you hesitantly, and you took a deep breath, trying to expel any residual qualms you had about taking this job. Smoothing your hair back into its usual tight ponytail, you gathered your purse from the passengers seat, tossing the strap over your shoulder and throwing open the door to your (car make/model). 

You took your first step onto the gritty asphalt of the parking lot, your modest heels clapping lightly against the ground as you made your way to the steps in front of the Sycamore Public Library.

“First day?”

You snapped your head to the left, where a kind looking stranger wearing a dark fedora smiled at you. You felt the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment, as you realized you had been standing at the steps, staring at the silvery letters etched into the front of the dismal building. 

“Is it that obvious?” you mumbled, nervously tapping your heel against the pavement.

He shook his head, his soft smile crinkling the edges of his hazel eyes. 

“You'll be fine in there. Honestly, it looks worse than it is.” He tilted his head back to gaze at the library, eyes clouding ever so slightly in an expression you could only interpret as something akin to adoration. “This….is intentional.”

Grimy stains ran down between the inlaid stones of the building and the “a” in “library” had fallen off some time ago, causing you to wonder when the last time the outside of the structure was paid any attention.

“Is it true what they say about this place?” You lowered your voice, keeping out of earshot of anyone passing by.

He arched a playful brow, bringing his hand up to his chin in contemplation. “Well, I guess it depends on who's talking. My name's Randall, by the way. Randall Dolphe.” He stretched out a hand, and you scrambled to shake it, mentally kicking yourself for seeming impolite. 

“Forgive me, I'm (y/n).” You shook his hand fervently, glad to have met someone who seemed somewhat normal before you walked into….well, you weren't exactly sure what you were walking into this morning. The recruiters had been rather hazy on the details of your new position. 

He waited for you to break off the handshake before pocketing his hands against a sudden brisk wind. “Shall I accompany you inside?”

“Oh, no, that's fine. I already feel much better. I'm just...not sure what to expect,” you stumbled over your words, hugging your coat closer to your body.

“Nonsense. As it turns out, I'm heading the same way.” He waved you off, lightly grazing your elbow with a gloved hand and gesturing forwards. “After you,” he said, flashing a reassuring smile. 

You nodded, a gracious smile spreading across your face as you climbed the steps towards the entrance of the building, glad to have met someone nice on your very first day in a new job. 

Both of you headed towards the stationary door to the left, and Dolphe opened it for you with a tip of his hat. Walking through the foyer, you eyed the rows of worse-for-wear books adorning the tall, wooden shelves of the library. Moss green carpet stretched across the vast, single room, blackened gum stains permanently pressed into the scuffed surface. The high ceilings were painted white, but were yellowed and chipping towards where they met the slate gray walls.

Overall, not a very promising-looking place of employment. 

Sensing your hesitant demeanor, he chuckled and bobbed his head. “Come.”

He waltzed though the maze of books, turning abruptly and heading towards a small alcove located behind a standalone bookcase that seemed its only purpose was to block the wall behind it from any line of sight from the entrance. A small silver keypad protruded from the wall, a red light glowing beneath the “0”. 

Dolphe turned to you. “Would you like to do the honors?”

You stared at him for a moment, brief confusion evident on your face, before you realized what he meant and went fumbling through your pockets. After a few grueling seconds, you were able to produce a laminated card with your face plastered in the center: your new I.D badge, hand delivered to your door the previous week by your recruiter. The piece of plastic was relatively non-descript; there was no other identifiable information located anywhere, other than your name and “Level 4” printed in small black letters below your admittedly awkward portrait. 

Dolphe looked surprised for a moment, before instructing you to hold the badge up to the keypad. You obliged, and the red light blinked green. A smooth movement behind you caused you to turn, and your jaw dropped in shock. Almost completely silent, the face of the bookcase slid vertically into the ground, opening up to reveal a narrow, brightly lit room.  
Slowly, you pocketed your badge and walked into the bookcase, and it became clear that the tiny room was, in fact, an elevator. No sooner had Dolphe followed behind you did the wooden slat rise from its resting place and replace itself in front your face, shutting you inside the cramped space with your new acquaintance. 

“Any idea what floor you're reporting to?”

“What _floor_? Isn't this building only a single level?”

He smiled, once again, and this time you felt a twinge of annoyance at his knowing look. 

“Usually, I let the your team lead handle this, but I find myself in a giving mood today. But first-,” he said, absently scratching the side of his neck as he spoke, “-what did you do before this that granted you access level 4 clearance on your very first day? Were you in government? Intelligence, CIA? Maybe FBI? You seem a bit young. Not to mention green. No offense,” he added quickly at the end. 

Your eyes widened. You hadn't known what those tiny black letters on your badge had meant. Clearance level? What were you walking into?

You shook your head slowly. “No, nothing like that. I'm not exceptionally good at any one thing, so I drifted a lot. Especially when it came to choosing a major in college.” If that wasn't the truth. From a young age, your parents had pushed you and prepared you for entrance into the medical field. When that didn't pan out, you decided to pursue a fleeting interest in law, and completed most of your pre-law courses online before you changed directions again and delved into the field of marine biology. As it turns out, you weren't made for aquatic excursions, and the last few bouts of seasickness while gathering samples from lakes, and even the ocean at a one point, had directed you to choose a field with less rolling waves. Plus, the smell of brackish water and pond scum made you nauseous. 

“I graduated number two in my class at the police academy. Nothing special. I started working at the Police Department in Rosemont, a few towns over.” You clasped your hands together, pinching your thumb rhythmically, as you did when you were nervous. “That's when I learned I was pretty decent at reading people. I started interning with one of the detectives on a couple of cases. Well, I was more of a consultant, really, since I wasn't ever actually educated in criminal psychology.” You paused to take a breath, meeting Dolphe's eyes. You noticed him staring at you curiously. 

“In the span of 6 months, we brought up his solve rate to almost 100%. They even gave me access to a couple of their cold case files, and I was able to track down the culprit of a 27-year old murder case. He was residing in a retirement home in Tallahassee, where patients and interns alike had gone missing routinely over the passed decade. Turns out, his golden years hadn't tempered his bloodlust.” You kept your eyes low to the ground, still fiddling with your fingers.  
After a moment, you raised your gaze to his, and allowed a small smile to play across your lips as you saw his expression. “Would you like to know how I was able to find him after all those years?” 

He crossed his arms and leaned back against a blank wall, dropping his fingers from the elevator buttons without making a selection and crossing his arms. “Do tell.”

You smirked. “His Bingo card.”

“What was that?”

“After crafting what I could of a profile on him, determining his approximate age and taking into account his known hunting grounds, I surmised he would now likely be in his late 70's. His...appetites suggested he would not have just left his killing days behind, but he would need an environment more suited to his aging physique and probable limited mobility. On a hunch, as I was scanning Florida newspapers for anything stranger than usual, I came across an article with a scanned copy of a winning Bingo card. He had signed his name, using a hauntingly familiar “y” tail as those used in ransom notes of the past, his left handedness flicking the pen up into the previous letter. He had finally slipped.”

Dolphe shook his head in amazement. “Seems like there was a bit more intuition than you might have originally thought. That was a gamble of long odds.”

You nodded in agreement. “It's true that I get these gut feelings about certain things. It's hard to explain, but they usually tend to work out in my favor.”

“Well you certainly seem modest about it. If I had caught a serial killer in his diapers after the justice system had failed for decades, I'd be demanding an increase in pay and an office with a view.”

You shifted your feet, and retrieved your I.D badge from its resting place in your pocket. 

“One of the reasons I took this job. I don't even know what it is, I just know that it's different. I didn't want to leave Rosemont; I really felt I was making a difference there. But….I was drawn. The sheer secrecy alone surrounding this place is bait enough for me. I've heard so many stories. 'Sycamore is haunted', 'Sycamore is a Russian spy base'….Hell, even 'Sycamore is a real life TORCHWOOD….”

You took a breath as he chuckled. 

“We're certainly no Area 51,” he said lightly, pressing a glowing button marked "B8" on the panel. A subtle whirring of an engine whined to life, and you felt the elevator begin a rapid descent. 

“And haunted? Ghosts have better things to do than hang around a bunch of suits.”

A shrill beep counted down the floors, until the car slowed to a halt and the single paneled door slid open, revealing a bright hallway, fluorescent lights shadowing everything in shades of too-bright whites and mottled grays. 

You blinked several times, allowing your eyes to adjust. A hallway stretched out before you, doors implemented every ten feet or so, leading to places you could only guess at. Unlimited offices? The sheer number boggled your mind. 

“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, Illinois Division. Affectionately referred to as 'The Library'.”


	2. Chapter 2

_“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D, Illinois Division. Affectionately referred to as 'The Library'.”_

“What..?” You started to say, and Dolphe swiped your badge from your hand, prompting you to follow him through a glass door leading to a nearby office. Behind the desk, there was a middle aged woman, her brown hair wrapped into a tight bun, making her already gaunt face look even more severe. 

“Madge!” Dolphe purred, sliding your badge across the neat desk with a flick of his fingers. “This is (y/n), new hire. Today's her first day, and I was wondering if you could put me in touch with her supervisor? Seems there was a lack of communication on our end. Ms.(l/n) isn't sure where she should report.”

Wordlessly, the woman named Madge snatched up your badge and swiped it through a strange black machine located by her computer screen. Though most of the screen was blocked from your view, you could see that the device had pulled up your profile, a hint of the right side of your face just barely visible from where you were standing. You wondered what kind of information it contained. 

After a few minutes and a brief phone call, Dolphe thanked Madge and led you out of the office.

“What's 'Shield'?” You asked, having to move your legs as quickly as you could manage to keep up with Dolphe.

“You're in for a treat today,” he mumbled, suddenly grim. You glanced at him, noticing how he clenched his jaw. He kept his arms at his sides, barely swaying as he marched you down the hallway, and an icy air had begun to envelope him. This was very different from his previously casual aura. 

“What's happened?” You asked, irritated that he'd ignored your previous inquiry.

He sighed, turning a corner and continuing down the endless corridor. “A taskforce I have consistently voted against has been passed by the Director. The taskforce that you have been assigned to. It's why they're giving you immediate level 4 clearance.” He led you briskly to a solid black door, gripping its worn silver handle with tense fingers. “And it's not just you.”

He fished through his pocket with his other hand, producing a white rectangle held between his index and middle finger.

“If you need anything, don't hesitate to reach out to me directly.” He turned the handle ever so slightly, pushing it open just enough for you to notice the room was mostly dark.

“And (y/n)?”

You looked at him in confusion as you took the card from his fingers.

“Keep your head down. Take this job slowly. Making an impact here won't mean anything if you're…..well...” He trailed off. 

He tipped his hat to you in a gentlemanly fashion, then turned on his heel, making his way swiftly down the strenuously lit corridor.

Not sure what to make of his sudden change in demeanor, you took a deep breath before pressing open the sturdy door the rest of the way. Nervousness welled inside your chest, but you couldn't say it wasn't also accompanied by a flittering of excitement. 

You made your way into the dimly lit room, the clop of your heels disturbing the otherwise still, stifling air. Ten people were seated in low plastic chairs, the kind you might find in an elementary school classroom. A couple turned back to watch as you walked into the room, but quickly lost interest and went back to low conversation. You took a seat in the far side of the row, facing the front of the room, where a large black rectangle occupied most of the wall from waist-level up. The room was cramped and there didn't seem to be anyone in charge. Everyone was at varying levels of comfort; there was a young blonde girl who barely looked to be out of high school fidgeting with her pleated skirt, and a man with olive skin slouched in his chair, trying to strike up conversation with his neighbor, who was too busy trying to get reception on her cell phone. The one thing that did stick out to you was that everyone seemed normal. They were civilians, just like you. So why had a secret government agency brought you all together? Why did the government have a secret outpost located in _Illinois_?

You sat by yourself, keeping silent as you pondered Dolphe's parting words to you. 'Keep your head down'. What did he mean?

The soft nudging of an elbow against your shoulder jolted you from your internal musings, and you snapped your head up, eyes meeting the wide blue irises of the young blonde girl. 

“Hello,” she said quietly. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you, I just….well, everybody here seems to have some sort of experience, and you seemed closest to my age. I was wondering if you didn't mind me sitting next to you? Just for a bit, of course. I'm not exactly sure why I'm here.”

You straightened up in your seat, eyeing the girl's straightened platinum locks, which glinted almost silver against the low lighting. “Yeah, absolutely,” you said with a soft smile. “To be honest, I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing here either. Where are you from?”

“Modesto.”

“California?”

She nodded shyly.

“They flew you all the way to Illinois from California?” You frowned, pondering this.

“Yup,” she shrugged. “Why, where are you from?”

“Local, from a few towns away.”

A quick scan of the room yielded that most everyone was from a different state. There were two that were local, like you, but the inhabitants stretched across the entire U.S. There was even one girl that had traveled from Mexico, and you learned that she was fluent in 13 languages. A man with long dark hair from Texas had graduated MIT by the age of 18 and had gone one to work as a technical engineer for a variety of electronics companies before deciding to become a freelance hacker, lending his talents to anyone who could pay well enough. The blonde, named Lena, was an aspiring actress. You, a college dropout-turned-police consultant for criminal justice. 

You were working on memorizing everyone's names when the door to the room was thrust open, and in strode a portly man with a red face, clad in the same black suit that most everyone else at the Library seemed to own. 

“Alright,” he said in a gruff voice, making his way to the front of the room.  
“First things first, introductions. I am Agent Jonathan Smith. You will call me Agent Smith. No nicknames, no abbreviations.” He scanned the room with beady eyes, and he immediately reminded you of a mole rat trying to sniff out its next meal below the ground. 

“It's come to my attention that not everybody has had the same briefing, so I'm going to set you all straight. Every last one of you has shown some semblance of a desirable skill set.” A few of the younger men started clapping their hands and patting themselves on the back, and were quickly shut down by a menacing glare from Agent Smith. He cleared his throat. “As I was saying,” he growled. “Before you go getting up on your high horses, those skills are not honed. Every last one of you is also _expendable_. Replaceable. I can have another one like you in here tomorrow.” He crossed the front of the room with slow deliberate steps, making eye contact with each and every one of you.” As his eyes met yours, you felt an odd shiver creep up your spine. His pupils glinted in the dim light, and you could barely make out the whites of his eyes. 

“This is a government black site. Even most of the government doesn't know this place exists. Tell others, we will deny it. We don't bother collecting your electronic devices, but don't waste your time trying to record anything or make phone calls; there is a digital net across this building so dense, it automatically drains the battery of any device not approved by us once you enter the premises. No cameras, no digital notepads. If any information does happen to be leaked, it will be traced, and you will be subject to punishment from the fullest extent of our laws.” A few murmurs came from the small crowd, and he looked around with a curt nod. “That's correct. _Our laws_. Not the pansy-ass laws of the soft government you're used to. I'm going to pause here before continuing to allow anyone not up to this task to exit freely. Please make your way to office 8-18B to collect your day's pay and arrange your return travel.” 

After a few moments and the scuffling of chairs scraping the linoleum floor, the room was four people lighter. 

“Very well then. Down to business. This is a branch of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, also known as S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“I knew it!” The hacker called out in glee.

“It's true,” Smith continued, unfazed by the exclamation. “It's true that after the recent events in New York, our once covert organization has become almost a household name. In light of this, many of our publicly known officers have been under surveillance. As such, we've had to move our more…. _delicate_ operations even further underground. In a very literal sense,” he stated, gesturing around him. 

“So why are _we_ here?” Piped Maven, the multi-lingual girl from Mexico. 

Steven, the MIT grad, cut in before Agent Smith could answer. “Who cares? As long as I get to play with some mad alien tech, I'm on board, all the way.” He winked and shot finger guns at Maven, who rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue at him in detest. 

“Jesus Christ give me strength,” Smith muttered, pressing his meaty fingers against his eyelids. “Somehow, I will be transforming you all into seasoned agents. Unfortunately, being under scrutiny from the public eye, we can no longer recruit through the normal channels. A lot of manpower went into selecting _promising_ candidates.” He groaned the last few words.

“I am your superior officer. You have an issue, come to me. I have all of your files, containing information you may not even know about yourselves. There are no secrets here. You have to take a personal day because of a death in the family? You better hope Granny is six feet under, because _I will know_.”

He let that sink in before moving on. “This taskforce was put together spur of the moment due to some pressing concerns. As you should know, about a month ago, there was an extra-terrestrial attack on New York, as previously mentioned. Space whales and all. The inciter was in S.H.I.E.L.D custody for all of ten minutes before slipping right out from under our fingers due to the incompetence of an agent that is still unaccounted for.”

“That Norse god of mischief,” sighed Lena, and you looked at her in surprise. 

“That's the one, but lose the doe eyes. It's weird and not conducive to this taskforce's ultimate goal,” Smith shot, wrinkling his nose. 

“So….you expect us to go after Loki?” You asked incredulously, biting your tongue as you remembered Dolphe's instruction. 

Smith chuckled, a truly discomforting sight, as his jowls jiggled against the neck of his too-tight collar.

“Now that would be a treat, eh? Loosing the newbies on an unstable alien god of mythic proportions? I'd make popcorn for that one. No, nothing like that. Not exactly.”

He turned towards the darkened glass, taking one last look at you, his eyes lingering longer than you were comfortable with, before placing his palm against a small white button built into the wall. 

“Without further ado,” he said drily. 

The slick black glass flickered to life, showing a picture of a sparse room furnished only with a large steel table cemented into the floor. There were no windows, and a thick bolted door was seen in the background. The blinking red light of a camera mounted in the back corner of the room drew your attention and it took you a moment to realize that you weren't staring at a screen; you were in an observation room. You were looking through a window. 

The only inhabitant of the dreary room was shackled repetitively to the table, wrists and ankles cuffed in intricate silver and bronze metal, a short length of thick chain bolted directly into the ground. A curtain of black hair hung in front of a pallid complexion, and his broad shoulders were clad in black leather and bronze armor, a look that had terrified millions of people across the globe. His gaze had been cast downwards, but the lights seemed to have commanded his attention. He blinked, his vibrant green eyes standing out in stark contrast from the sea of grays and blacks that you had become accustomed to, continuing to stare at the smooth surface of the table. 

“Ah, agent. Can you hear me now?”


	3. Chapter 3

_“Ah, agent. Can you hear me now?”_

A silky voice came from over the intercom, and Smith shook his head in disgust. 

“I only listen when you have something to say, alien,” he retorted in a tired fashion, pressing an adjacent button so that he could communicate to the interrogation room.

“How rude,” came the level reply. “And I had thought that we were becoming such great….what's that word?” He let out a throaty laugh and jangled his cuffs together. He squinted at the two way glass, emerald eyes seeming to pierce through you, and even though you knew he couldn't see through, you felt your heart leap into your throat.

“Have you brought me more friends, agent? How kind of you. I do so enjoy our time together. Why don't you send them in like last time? I promise I won't bite.” He flashed a threatening smile, his thin lips stretching over unnaturally white teeth. 

You couldn't pull your eyes away from the sight in front of you. Loki, god of mischief, brother of Thor, chained to a steel table hundreds of feet below the surface. Under a false library. In _Illinois._

The group had gone silent.

“Cool,” you heard Steven whisper, before the others erupted into a frenzy. 

“Are you _crazy?_ ” Maven shouted at Agent Smith, and he pressed his lips into an irritated frown. “How-how is he here?! _Why_ is he here?”

“With the exception of Mr. Steven here, this reaction is much more what I was expecting from our last group. A healthy dose of fear. This is a good thing,” he muttered, seemingly to himself.

“Last group?” Lena called shrilly. “What happened to them? Did he say you let them _in there with him?_

“Everyone settle down!” Smith roared over the incessant babbling. 

“Unsurprisingly, the brother of Thor has a rather tricky streak. More than one of our last recruits fell for his silver tongue.” He turned his gaze to Lena. “Will this be a problem?”

She shook her head so hard, her hair whipped across her face, obscuring her frightened expression. 

“Hell no,” she said quickly. “It's like seeing a lion in person, versus in a nature documentary. Yeah, in theory I want to cuddle with it, but there's no way I'm getting into a cage with it.” 

Smith scratched his head. “Good enough for me.”

You hadn't taken your eyes from Loki's face, and you watched as he narrowed his gaze at Smith's back at the mention of his godly brother. 

“Agent Smith,” you said quietly. “Can he hear us?” Loki's eyes flickered to you and your blood ran cold.

“Nothing gets through this intercom unless I'm pressing this button,” he motioned to the panel by his fingers. “We can hear him, but he cannot hear us.”

You nodded, extremely doubtful of that. Not only were you sure he could hear everything you said, intercom or not, but you were fairly certain he could see right through the two-way glass. He was an alien after all; his biology was certain to work differently than humans. 

Unable to wrench your gaze from the verdant irises glistening coldly in the florescent light, you felt a frigid knot forming in the pit of your stomach. You'd watched on national television as the very man-no, god- in front of you gutted innocent people in Germany. He'd shrieked, a madman intent of gaining control over anything, as a way to validate himself. An incredibly unstable individual indeed, you could feel the unnaturally calm air of calculating, murderous intent extending from the other room. It was a palpable feeling that made your fingers go numb and the skin on your forearms prick. 

Loki tilted his head and smiled at you, waving lithe fingers in such a subtle manner, you were sure no one else caught it. 

Finally able to tear away from his mesmerizing gaze, you shut your eyes and directed your head downwards, wringing your fingers together in your lap. 

Much more calmly, Maven restated her previous inquiries. 

“Agent Smith, now that you somehow have Loki in custody, what is it that you expect from us?”

“Now that's a question I can answer. You've all been given clearance level 4. This grants you access to the majority of the files and systems S.H.I.E.L.D has to offer. This includes satellites feeds, advanced GPS technology, inter-agency communications. I want you to find out where he's been. I want to know where he will go when he ultimately escapes this facility, I want to know who he talks to, I want to know what toppings he likes on his _goddamn pizza._ I want to know how his deranged mind works. Technically, a prisoner of Loki's caliber is a Level 7 clearance requirement. Therefore, your interaction with anyone outside of this taskforce is strictly limited. No one, and I repeat, _no one_ under clearance level 7 is to know what you are working on.”

You snuck another glance at Loki. One dark eyebrow was raised in a characteristic smirk, and he leaned back in the metal chair, tapping his chain-clad feet in a rhythmic beat that you couldn't quite place. He stared at the ceiling with mock curiosity, no doubt listening in on your conversation. 

“Is anyone here qualified for such an undertaking?” Maven asked skeptically. “I can speak to him in a thousand languages, Steven's only useful if he turns out to be an android, and what's Lena gonna do? Act him into submission? Does anyone else here have the ability to reason with this monster?”

Slowly, you came to the conclusion of why you were there: your gut feeling, your strange intuition.

You raised your eyes and noticed Smith staring intently at you. 

You stumbled over your words. “I have no official training or education to speak of in the field, no-”

“In my experience, _experience_ outweighs a scrap of paper giving you permission to do what you are already capable of doing. So how about it, (y/n). Are you up to dissecting the mind of this madman? Can you tell me what I need to know, or am I wasting government funds on you?”

You clamped your eyes shut, silent curses streaming across your mind as you grappled with yourself. 

_If I can't do this, what am I doing here?_

“I'm certainly up to the challenge, Agent Smith,” you asserted with newfound confidence. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Loki slowly lean forward, clasping his hands together and giving you a sinister smile. 

You got to your feet, staring directly into the eyes of the Trickster god, but addressing Agent Smith. 

“Sir, obviously I will need to speak with the...subject.” You crossed the few feet to the front of the room to confront Smith directly. In the lowest voice you could manage, you added, “I will also need to monitor him around the clock. I will need unimpeded access to him if I am to make an accurate profile.”

Smith nodded dismissively. “I understand the requirements for psychological mapping, especially of the criminal mind. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only profiler we have tasked with this. As you have previously stated, you have no official experience. We have some of the brightest minds from around the globe working on this. Your advantage is that you have physical access to him, here. We have others monitoring him electronically.”

He coughed and you nodded curtly, heading back to your seat. 

“(Y/n),” he called after you. You turned to him before seating yourself. “This is a chance for you, all of you,” he continued, fanning his hand across the room to encompass the remainder of the taskforce. “Prove yourselves. This may be a covert government operation, but it is extremely high profile. Stand out. Do well. Make a name for yourselves. It never hurts to have friends in high places.”

You frowned inwardly at the contrasting words of Smith and Dolphe.

“Dismissed,” Smith said casually, waving his hand. “Check in with Madge in 8-1B for your official assignments and placement orders. You're all official agents of S.H.I.E.L.D now. Congratulations.” 

With a collective nod, you all rose from your chairs and made for the door.

“Ah, (y/n), do you mind if I speak with you for a moment?” Smith gestured for you to stay seated, and came to you. You saw Lena's nervous expression as she hesitantly left the room with the others, without you. 

“Of course, Agent Smith,” you said politely. He took a seat by you and gazed through the window at his captive. 

“I want to be setting you up for success,” he said in a simple voice. “You may not have the qualifications some of the others do, but you've certainly had the most experience. You've made the biggest difference in the world, which is challenging to do.”

You looked at him curiously, knitting your brows together. 

He smiled, his round cheeks forcing his small eyes almost completely shut. 

“I had the most fun reading your profile,” he stated. “Personally, I think you show the greatest promise out of the group. I also think you have the greatest potential for growth.”

He pointed a thick finger at Loki. “If you can crack that nutcase, what the hell won't you be able to do? You'll become an asset, and I think that's something that is important to you. I think you need somewhere you feel you belong.”

“If I may interject,” you said hurriedly, watching Loki's intelligent green eyes glint dangerously through the glass. “I would prefer if we limit the conversation. No personal details,” you whispered, afraid that Loki would get something he could try to use against you. You already had your work cut out for you. 

Smith leaned back. “Whatever you say. It's not like the demon can hear us.”

“Yes, he can,” you affirmed quietly. “And while we're at it,” you directed your attention to the shackled god in the other room. “I'm pretty sure you can see us, too, can't you?”

In enigmatic response, Loki diverted his eyes to the ceiling and rested his chin on his hands, propping his elbows against the table. 

“Sonuvabitch,” breathed Smith, running his hand through his thinning hair in shock. 

“Yeah,” you said bluntly. You turned to Smith. “You said you sent people in there, with him,” you spoke briskly. “What happened?”

Smith averted his gaze, brushing imaginary dirt off of his trousers. “I didn't so much as send them in as they….willingly elected to go themselves. Each and every one of them were under the impression they could get to him, that they could help him see our reason. They were so sure of themselves…..” He spoke softly, with an air of guilt that reverberated with you. 

He shook his head, pushing himself up from the small chair with a great deal of effort. 

“Anyways, that is what I wanted to discuss with you. I would like to show you the footage of the last groups interactions with him. If you could follow me to my office, Miss (y/n)?”


	4. Chapter 4

The images played across the screen, a grotesque menagerie of fuzzy figures and jarring movements.

And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

You raised your fingers to your lips as you watched the leather clad figure wrap his chains around the neck of a labcoated assistant and drove her skull into the stainless steel table. He snapped the necks of two others, and dismembered the fourth, wrenching an arm from its socket and tossing it clear across the room as if it were made of straw. 

“I did warn you it would be…..disturbing, to say the least,” Smith commented, dabbing at the sheen of sweat dampening his receding hairline. “But I thought it was crucial that you see what you're up against. This isn't an individual you will be able to fix, only evaluate. You will not be granted face to face contact with him.”

You nodded, swallowing the bile that had risen in your throat after you'd watched as a third body part was strewn across the interrogation room on the small screen. 

“How were you able to clean the room?” You asked flatly. You were used to seeing the horrific aftermath of a crime, but watching it happen...

Smith snorted. “Very carefully. Thankfully, the method we employ for chaining prisoners is on a winch. We can shorten the length of the chain from the outside, giving him very limited mobility. I can have his ass pinned to the ground if I like, and I did. The metal we use is salvaged from the wreckage of New York. Miraculously, it seems to be the only thing stronger than him. Sedatives don't work on him, something about his alien biology.”

Your eyes widened. “Somebody got close enough to put a needle in him?”

Smith nodded grimly. “Last thing they ever did. Pumped him full of elephant tranquilizers before he ripped her throat out with his bare hands.”

You nodded and leaned back in the chair, picking at the corner of your thumbnail absentmindedly. 

“Agent Smith, do you mind if I ask how Loki ended up in S.H.I.E.L.D custody in the first place? You said he escaped with the Tesseract after he was captured in New York.”

“That's one of the reasons you're here. I want you to find out. (Y/n), _he turned himself in._ ”

“He _what_?”

He nodded solemnly, fumbling in his coat pocket for something. He lifted a cigarette to his lips, struggling to light it with the small silver Zippo. 

“You heard me. That little shit's up to something, and I don't intend to play his games. I'm telling you all of this because I didn't tell the last group, and they were massacred because of it. I'm praying that full disclosure and an abundance of information will help you make rational decisions, because let me tell you: that snake has almost wriggled its way into my mind a few times as well. This will not be easy.”

You set your mouth into a hard line. “Understood.” 

Despite Agent Smith's warnings and the footage that was playing on a loop directly in front of you, you couldn't temper the spark of excitement flickering in your chest. Now this was a puzzle. This wasn't profiling a child killer or a serial arsonist, and predicting their next target. This wasn't being disappointed when the chase was over too quickly, because a murderer had left the GPS on his cellphone on as he returned to the scene of his grisly crime. 

Despite the dangers, you couldn't help but think to yourself: _This is gonna be fun._

Over the course of the next week, you reported to the Library every morning at 7am sharp. You'd learned that there were more secret entrances to the S.H.I.E.L.D base than the bookcase elevator that you had taken with Dolphe your first day. You sat in the observation room for hours on end, watching the trickster god lounge at his table, never speaking to him directly. You were usually accompanied by Smith or another agent, and you couldn't tell if they were there to evaluate your methods or ensure your sanity. You assumed the latter. 

As the days passed, you were granted more freedom, until one day you arrived to the observation room completely alone. Smith had some business to attend to, but had promised to check in at about midday for a progress report. 

You closed the door behind you and sat down in the chair you had moved to the middle of the window. Withdrawing a thin black binder, you spread your notes across your lap, picked up your pencil, and waited silently. Every morning, he would cross his arms behind his head, dragging the length of chain across the metal table and eliciting a tortured squeal from the links. He hadn't spoken since your orientation day. 

Today was different.

“My, my, agent. Are we finally alone?” The smooth voice sounded tinny through the intercom, but the velvet texture of his words oozed through clearly enough. 

You didn't respond. Instead, you pretended to jot something down in your notepad, as you had been doing the passed few days. 

Loki cocked his head to the side, a strand of raven hair coming loose from his slicked scalp to dangle in front of one bright green eye. 

“I must admit, I thought a lot of things when I first saw you, but I never thought that you'd be _boring._ It's quite a disappointment, really.”

Against your conscious effort, the corner of your lips threatened to turn up in a sly smile. 

“Displays narcissistic tendencies,” you murmured as you doodled a flower in the corner of your notepad. You had already written down your preliminary evaluation of Loki days before. He hadn't given you anything new thus far, and you'd decided to see what happened when you gave him a little...push. 

“Are you writing about me? Agent, how flattering. Are you going to carve our initials into a tree as well? That is what you humans do, is it not?” 

_Don't engage. Do not engage._

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, and noticed out of the corner of your eye as Loki did the same. 

“Make sure to add 'Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim, and fantastic lover' to your scribbles.”

He leaned back in his chair, his slight smile fading as you remained silent. 

“I was looking forward to when you and I could have a chat, and you're leaving me wanting, _agent._ ”

“And I've always wanted to meet a Norse god,” you said evenly. “Things don't always live up to the expectations we set for ourselves, do they?” You shook your head in mock disappointment.  
“Brother of Thor. How did you cope with living in the shadow of Asgard's golden son?”

Loki's face was a mask of calm. He propped a shackle-clad boot on the table, testing the limits of the chain and held your gaze coolly. 

“Ah, like this. By throwing a temper tantrum of intergalactic proportions. Of course,” you answered your own rhetorical question, gesturing to his person. 

“Agent, can you do me a favor?” Came the icy reply.

“Of course, Prince of Asgard, rightful King of Jotunheim, and _fantastic lover._ I live only to serve you."

You caught the subtle twitch of his left eye as he rose slowly from his chair and made his way towards the glass, his steps steady and deliberate. The thick chain scraped heavily across the concrete floor until coming to a halt, Loki's face inches from the two-way glass. 

Instinctively, you stood from your chair and took a quick step back, keeping your head steady and raising your eyes to meet his instead. 

“Let me see you,” he said slowly, clasping his hands behind his leather-clad torso.

You held your gaze, but tilted your head to the side in slight confusion. “I thought you could already see.”

He nodded his head and tapped his boot against the concrete absently. “Yes, yes, but it gives me a horrible headache. Strains the eyes. We're all civilized here, are we not?”

You pressed your lips together, debating what harm he could honestly do just by seeing you a bit more clearly. Without breaking eye contact, you stepped slowly to the small control panel embedded in the wall, and flipped the light switch. Florescent light poured into the small observation room, rendering the two-way glass ineffective. 

Loki smiled, apparently pleased that you'd done what he'd asked. You moved back towards the window, arms at your side, and stared up into the eyes of the god of lies. He was taller than you had originally thought, and your head came to about his clavicle. 

“Satisfied?” You asked, trying to keep your voice level. Your heart had begun to thump in your chest like a jackhammer, and you prayed his superhearing wasn't that good. 

“Quite. It will be _much_ easier to picture me choking the life from your frail body now.” His eyes were cold and snake-like, and the false smile plastered across his lips did nothing to alleviate the venom from the threat. 

Oddly enough, Loki's words calmed your racing heart, and your breathing slowed. You smiled, a genuine smile, and you saw Loki's falter, if only for the briefest of moments. 

You saw his gaze flicker to just behind you, and you turned your head as the hefty door was eased open. 

In strode Dolphe, still wearing his dark fedora, outfitted in his usual black suit. “Knock knock,” he called softly. Taken by surprise, you rushed to the light switch and flicked it off, shrouding the room in darkness once again. 

“I won't ask what that was about,” Dolphe said lightly, one brow arched in question.

“What are you doing here?” You replied quickly. “Not that it's not good to see you again, I just wasn't expecting...”

He raised his hand dismissively. “Agent Smith asked me to check up on you. He extends his apologies he couldn't come personally. He got caught up in an assignment.”

You lowed your head. “Of course,” you mumbled, slightly upset he had interrupted your progress. 

He seemed to only just now register the broad-shouldered figure standing in clear view of the window, and he cursed under his breath. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked lowly. “I haven't seen him even get up from his chair since...”

You raised an inquisitive brow. “Since…?”

He sighed. “It's nothing. How are you getting along here? You seemed to have settled in nicely,” he said, abruptly changing the subject. 

You shrugged your shoulders, still in a sour mood. You tossed a glance at Loki, who hadn't moved so much as a muscle. He looked as though he were waiting patiently for you to finish your conversation. 

“I'd be happy to tell you about it later, Agent Dolphe. I'm kind of in the middle of something-”

“Sounds terrific. I was thinking dinner?”

You recoiled slightly, out of mild shock at his proposal. He laughed at your reaction. 

“Relax, it's just a platonic dinner between coworkers. I have some information concerning your subject that might be of use, and hey-” he raised his shoulders, “-you get a free meal out of it.”

“That...actually sounds nice,” you stammered, raising your hand to cover half of your face when you saw Loki roll his eyes. 

“Excellent,” Dolphe said, looking a bit too glad about a platonic meal between coworkers. “I'll meet you after your shift. We can carpool if you'd like.”

You smiled and nodded at him, and he went to leave the room. “I'll let Smith know that you've got it covered here. Please, be careful with that maniac,” Dolphe said as he opened the door. 

“Well, that was awkward,” Loki commented after Dolphe was out of earshot. “Are you going to- oh, what's that barbaric phrase Midgardians use- throw him a bone? He seems to have taken a liking to you.”

You cleared your throat, using the palms of your hands to smooth the front of your blouse as you rearranged your thoughts. 

“Please, Laufeyson, before we were interrupted, you were saying something about making it your life's work to see me dead?”

“It will take but a mere fraction of a moment to grind you underfoot,” he seethed, slamming a curled fist against the reinforced glass and causing the wall to shudder. 

Unfazed, you stared unblinking into his volatile eyes. 

“This glass is made of the same material that was used in your prison aboard the heli-ship. Do you remember that? When mere humans had you trapped like a rat in a reinforced cage? Not unlike now,” you said coolly. 

_Take it easy, you're having way too much fun with this._

He leaned against the glass, and you could see the moisture from his even breaths creating small foggy splotches across the transparent surface. 

“I've changed my mind,” he said, his lips curling into a sinister smile that sent chills up your spine. “Why should the fun be over so quickly? No, I will make you suffer. You will beg me for mercy, and only when I tire of your lamentations will I see fit to grant you the sweet relief of your death.”

You swiped your pencil and notepad from its place on the chair and flipped to a blank page, cocking your head to the side. 

“Tell me, as I've been having difficulty with this one. Would you classify yourself as having an inferiority or a superiority complex?”

He straightened up, once again placing his arms behind his back, seeming to have regained his composure. 

“Agent,” he shook his head, his unnerving smile stretched wide across his face. “I'll admit my fault. You did not disappoint, after all.” He cast one last eerie look, before peering behind you once again. 

He turned on his heel and made his way back to the solitary steel chair, seating himself with his arms crossed behind his head and both boots propped on the table. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, the remnants of a devilish smile still playing across his lips. 

“Enjoy your date, agent.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Howdy! Quick, boring character-building chapter! I'll have something else for you guys by Friday ;)_
> 
> ***********************************************************************************

“How's your chicken?”

Live music played in the background and the restaurant was softly lit, casting wriggling shadows across the stark white tablecloths. 

You covered your mouth and swallowed your current bite, nodding your head. “It's good. Yours?”

“A bit dry, but if it's good enough for the lady, it's good enough for me,” Dolphe smiled, spearing a piece of steamed broccoli with the end of his fork. 

You fidgeted slightly, bundling the napkin in your lap with tense fingers. “So you said you had some more information on the...subject?” You asked warily, thinking it better if you didn't mention _his_ name in such a public place.

Dolphe's smile fell ever so slightly, and he laid his fork on his bare plate. “Of course. I was curious if Smith had given you any indication as to what had happened to the previous taskforce?”

“He showed me the footage.”

“Ah.” Dolphe wiped his mouth with the napkin and folded his hands on the table. “Pretty horrific stuff. And did very special agent Smith tell you why a _civilian taskforce_ that had been completely obliterated by a crazed alien-god wasn't immediately shut down, and instead was replaced with a new wave of unprepared _civilians?_ ”

“He did not, but I do remember you saying something about the Director giving it the green light?”

Dolphe leaned back in his chair. “That's correct. The people you watched being slaughtered, that was my team. I was in charge of the initial group tasked with the surveillance of Loki of Asgard. Agent Smith was my second. After the incident, we had both agreed to step down and bury any notion of reigniting this suicide mission. I'd just as soon see that alien rot in a cell beneath the ground, never to see any planet's sunlight ever again. Unfortunately, we were approached with a lucrative incentive, and Smith wasn't the man I thought he was. He jumped at the opportunity to lead the taskforce, and I was reassigned to a different department.” Guilt and anger oozed from him, and against your better judgment, you reached across the table to lay your hand on his.

“It wasn't your fault,” you said softly. “Loki is….a monster. And I'm sorry that they didn't listen to you. But no on else is having contact with him. I haven't even seen them open the door to give him food,” you said, before you realized that you hadn't seen Loki eat anything in a week. Or ever, for that matter. You gnawed on your bottom lip, deep in thought. 

“You have contact with him,” he said sourly. 

“Hm? I watch him through a reinforced window. I have contact with him like I have contact with an animal at the zoo.”

“He's spoken to you, hasn't he? He spoke with my team, drove them all mad. Took him less than a week to work his way through them all, and he only spoke with each of them for about fifteen minutes a day, if that. You're in that room with him for ten hours straight. You either have a will of steel, or your damn insane.”

You raised your brows at him, and his eyes went wide. “I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean that.”

“It's okay, grief makes you say things. And maybe I am a bit insane,” you joked, trying to lighten the tone.

“Thank you,” he said, entwining his fingers with yours. His hand was warm, and not entirely unpleasant. His overprotective attitude towards you seemed misplaced, but it was nice to feel that someone cared. That wasn't something you often had.  
His hazel eyes shimmered in the low candlelight, and you saw the dark circles under his eyes that you hadn't noticed before. He had a rugged jawline, and the barest touch of dark stubble lining his cheeks. 

He was kind of cute for an older guy, in a tortured sort of way. 

You cursed at yourself inwardly as you felt your cheeks redden, removing your hand from his to take a sip of water. He shifted awkwardly, taking a deep breath. “It didn't go unnoticed that you never called,” he quietly, scratching the side of his neck. 

“I've been pretty busy, what with dealing with a homicidal god every day,” you replied, a little sharper than you meant to. Dolphe had been nothing but nice to you.

He raised his hands defensively. “Okay, sorry, sorry. Platonic dinner, that's what I promised, right?” He sighed. “Please forgive me. My head's been a bit of a mess since I lost my team. I can't stand to be alone with myself right now. I just think I want someone to lean on, and I apologize for trying to force you into that role. We can leave now, if you'd like.” He gestured at the waiter for the check. 

You closed your eyes and smiled sadly. “I understand. Truly, I do.” Dolphe was a good man; you sensed no ill-intention from him. He was just sad. 

“Do you...want to come over, maybe? We could watch a movie or something. I have some leftover pumpkin pie from a few nights ago,” you offered hesitantly. 

Dolphe perked up and he looked at you with kind eyes. “Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose.”

“It's not a problem at all,” you said as Dolphe paid the bill with a company card. You removed the napkin from your lap, and both rose from the table. 

“If you want to drop me off at my car, you can follow me back to my place from the Library.”

**************************************

The drive back was uneventful. You thanked him for dinner, and as you headed to your car, Dolphe decided to take a raincheck on the pumpkin pie. Slightly relieved, you made plans to hang out the next evening, and said goodnight. You let Dolphe give you a small kiss on the forehead before going your separate ways. 

_What does a god eat?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _....Nevermind, here it is. I couldn't wait to post it. I hope you enjoy!_
> 
> ......................................................................................

The next morning, you reported to work as usual. You passed Dolphe on your way to the observation room that had become your workspace, and his face lit up. He was on a phone call, but managed a small wave as you passed his office. 

Loki was waiting for you as you entered the dark room, standing in the center of the cramped space about two feet from the window, hands behind his back. 

“Good morning to you, agent,” he said coyly. “How was your rendezvous with Agent Dolphe last night? Anything eventful happen?”

“Are they feeding you?” You ignored him and stated what had been on your mind all night. “Do you even need food? I assume they have food on Asgard.”

This seemed to take him by surprise. “As if I would consume anything produced by disease-riddled peasants such as yourselves,” he sniffed, casting his eyes downward.

“Hm.” You nodded and shouldered the bag you had brought to work with you, turning on your heel and heading back to the door. 

“Agent, where are you going?” Loki called after you, and you allowed yourself a smile at the twinge of desperation in his tone. 

Shutting the door behind you, you walked briskly down the hallway, turning at the next opening to where an armed guard was stationed outside the interrogation room.

“Morning!” You sang, presenting the guard with a styrofoam box. “I got permission from Agent Smith to give this to the subject, but the condition was that I give it to him myself.”

“Yeah, he radioed us earlier about it. Still think it's a batshit idea, though. Open the container please.”

You obliged, showing the guard the contents of the box. He shook his head with a sour smile on his face. 

“Unbelievable. The guy straight up murders over a hundred people, injuring who the hell knows how many others, and he gets freakin' room service. Leave your bag outside, remove your jacket and any other loose articles of clothing and jewelery, please. Keep your arms to yourself. Slide the box along the floor. He has a chain length of four feet right now, so stay behind the red tape. Good luck, lady.”

You shouldered off your jacket, placing it in a cardboard collection box by the door, along with your bag and necklace. The guard ran over your body with something akin to a metal detector, and nodded once he was satisfied. 

“I sure hope you know what you're doing. If he gets to you, even my AR isn't gonna faze him. Are you ready?”

You took a bracing breath, stretching your limbs and hugging the styrofoam box to your chest. You nodded. 

“Alright, in you go.” The guard swiped his keycard and unbolted the door, hoisting it open with noticeable effort. He motioned for you to enter, and you stepped onto the concrete floor, instantly wishing you were able to keep your jacket on. It was _freezing_. 

The guard stepped in behind you, making to shut the door. You waved him off, asking him to wait outside. Hesitantly, he complied, stating that it “wasn't gonna be his ass if you were torn into dogchow.” The hefty door shut behind you with a reverberating slam, and you swallowed thickly as you heard the bolts sliding back in place. 

You were alone with Loki. 

He stared at you, incredulity painted across his pale face. It took even him a moment to regain his composure, thrown off balance by your boldness. 

“Well, agent. I'm shocked,” he commented, the deadly honey dripping from his voice now truly noticeable. He turned the rest of his body to face you, but didn't move any closer. 

You spotted the line of red duct tape running the length of the room horizontally, and took quick, measured steps until you reached the perimeter. Slowly, you held out the container, tilting your head and motioning for him to come take it from you. 

“What is that?” He asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“Come find out,” you replied evenly. 

A small smile finally etched its way across his lips, and he let out a breathy laugh. “You are playing a dangerous game, mortal. What makes you think I won't tear you limb from limb, as I did your predecessors?”

You held back a wince from the mention of the massacre. You had to remain focused. More importantly, you had to keep his interest.

“The fact that you're still over on the other side of the room, like a frightened child.” You waved the box at him, feigning impatience. 

“Why you-”

“It's good, I promise you.”

“And what's the promise of a mewling kit such as yourself worth? You're only vying for my attentions, at this point. You have nothing of value for me.”

You glanced at the camera mounted in the corner of the room, to your right. You waltzed over to it, hoisting yourself up on your tiptoes to press the power button. The red recording light flickered and died.

“Have you gone quite mad?” Loki questioned, shifting his weight to one foot and eyeing you curiously. 

“Take it,” you instructed. “No one's watching. That's what you're afraid of, isn't it?”

He held your gaze quietly. 

“I am not a-”

“Or are you going to make me slide this across the floor to you? Either way is fine by me, and one of them is much simpler.” You raised your eyebrows expectantly. 

“Don't mistake this as a kindness, Loki,” you said, and as his name rolled off your tongue, you realized this was the first time you had addressed him properly. “I'm only here to learn about you. I want to know what makes you tick.”

He took a deliberate step towards you, smirking as you flinched. 

“Are you frightened of me, _agent?_ ”

“It would be ill-advised to be otherwise,” you replied confidently. “But no.”

He took another step, quickly closing the gap between you until his chains were pulled taut. Your outstretched hand extended over the perimeter, clutching the container with rigid fingers.

He lifted his hand, painstakingly slow, towards the container, not losing your gaze for a moment. His fingers grazed yours, and a chill ran through your arm. He plucked the container from your grasp and fiddled with the top until it popped open. 

“What is this slop?” He asked in disgust.

“Pumpkin pie,” you answered innocently, retracting your arm as quickly as you could and shoving your hand into your pocket for warmth. The tips of the fingers that had touched his flesh seemed to burn with an icy fire. “They wouldn't let me give you utensils, so you'll just have to pick it up with your hands, like a pizza.” You stopped for a second, knitting your brows and scrunching your nose. “Have you ever had pizza?”

He tossed the container onto the table behind him with a flick of his wrist. 

You fought back a grin. You'd expected him to crush it under his boot to assert his authority. This was much more interesting. 

“You know what I'd prefer? If you would join me on the other side of that silly barrier there.”

“How did you convince all of those people to enter this room, with you?”

He cocked his head to the side. “How have I gotten you yourself here, agent?”

“The illusion is that you're in control, Loki.”

He smiled at this. “What a funny choice of words.”

Without warning, the intercom crackled to life and a voice roared over the speakers. 

_“YOU SON OF A BITCH, (Y/N) GET BACK!!!”_

Before you could process what was happening, a shimmer of green erupted from around you, and the red tape line disappeared. The chains binding Loki seemed to extend and he moved forward with blinding speed, wrapping a wiry arm across your torso and slamming your back hard against his chest. With his free hand, he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head to the side, lowering his chilly lips to your ear. 

“Such a shame, agent. You have been my favorite plaything thus far.” His heady scent invaded your nostrils, a mix of mint and sandalwood that left an almost antiseptic taste on your tongue. 

The steel door swung open, screeching on its hinges, and in swarmed four armed guards, all leveling their weapons at Loki's head. 

_“Let her go, Loki,”_ you heard Dolphe's strained voice come from all around you, and your head spun. You were struggling to get your bearings, and your breaths were coming in ragged gasps. You felt your direction change as Loki twisted towards the observation window. 

“Why agent Dolphe, is that jealousy I sense?” Loki sneered, and you felt frigid fingertips trail down your throat to your clavicle, lingering just beneath the neckline of your blouse. “She is rather lovely though, isn't she?” He purred, thoughtfully. 

_“You let her go, or I swear I will riddle your body with bulletholes. God or not, that's still gonna hurt like a bitch.”_

Bullets locked into the chambers of four automatic weapons, and you struggled to move your head. Everyone's words sounded foggy, and there was a high pitch ringing that you couldn't quite place coming from all around. 

“Stop,” you breathed, clutching at the thick leather enveloping Loki's forearm. 

“You're going to have to speak up if you want them to hear you, dearest.” He pressed his lips against your temple, his even breaths tickling the flyaway strands of hair in front of your ear.

“They're going to shoot you, idiot,” you strained, struggling to right your feet against the solid concrete. 

“Name calling? Tsk-tsk, agent. I expected better.”

The crackling of the intercom had gone dead, and you heard another fervent pair of footsteps enter the tense room. Loki had your face upturned to the ceiling, but you were able to see the murky shape of Dolphe's fedora as he approached the situation, pistol drawn and aimed. 

“Damnit, I can't _breathe._ ” You tapped Loki on the arm crushing your chest, and surprisingly, he loosened his grip. Ever so slightly. 

“Last warning, devil. Release her and I won't give you a really bad lead headache.”

“It seems our time is up, agent,” he whispered into your ear, causing the cold to seep into your skin, and settle in your bones. You heart thundered against your ribcage, and dark spots were swimming at the edges of your vision. He lowered his face, and you felt his lips curl into a cruel smile against the heated flesh of your neck. “Until next time.”

He dropped you, taking a swift step back and lifting his hands into the air. Dolphe lunged forward, throwing one arm around your shoulders and keeping his pistol level with Loki's forehead.   
As soon as he had released you, you heard a metallic churning from underneath the floor, and you watched as the chains binding Loki's hands and feet were retracted into the ground, eventually forcing him to his knees. He kept a cocky smile the entire time, never taking his eyes from yours. You pressed your hand to your throat, tracing where his fingers had drawn across the delicate skin, and you were only partially aware of Dolphe barking orders as he ushered you back through the door.

By the time the door had been shut and bolted, your were grinning from ear to ear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hiya! Long day, short chapter. Finally made it to Nintendo NY while I'm here for work. THEY HAVE A MASSIVE GOOMY. That is all. Have a fantastic end to your week :)_
> 
> ********************************************************************************************

By the time the door had been shut and bolted, your were grinning from ear to ear, much to Dolphe's...chagrin? That wasn't the right word. More like “absolute and decimating mortification” and probably, _definitely_ , a surplus of disgust. He grabbed your wrist in his large hand and marched you down the hall to his office, slamming the door shut and tossing you at the nearest plush chair. 

“What the hell was that?” His face was livid, the 5 o'clock shadow making him look even more stern. 

Your smile vanished and you looked him dead in the eye. 

“I had him in a controlled environment. That never would have happened if you hadn't broadcasted your _motherly concern_ through the intercom! You spooked him! I was _actually_ getting somewhere.”

“Excuse me?! You were getting yourself real dead, _real quick_ ,” he shouted, exasperated. 

“He-”

“It was a trap, (y/n)! He set a goddamn trap and you walked right into it. _Exactly_ like the others!” He threw his hands into the air, slamming his fist against the frame of the door. You flinched, folding your hands into your lap and shutting your mouth.

“(Y/n), can you please appreciate the fact that you are a civilian, largely untrained, and that you are operating under extremely threatening conditions? You have to take certain precautions-”

“I am an official agent of S.H.I.E.L.D and I was attending the task that was assigned to me. In order for me to get anything else out of Loki, I have to establish a working relationship, and that is what I was doing. I had permission from Agent Smith, _my superior officer_ , to-”

“Don't pull that shit with me,” Dolphe growled. “You know as well as I do that Smith did not order you to hand deliver a box of leftovers to the angsty, _murderous_ god of lies we keep in our basement.”

“That's exactly what I did, Randall,” the deep voice came from behind you, and you spun around to see Smith's husky form taking up most of the doorway. “What I didn't instruct you to do was _physically hand_ the goddamn thing to him. Just...slide it on over.”

Dolphe balked. “That hardly makes a difference.”

“It makes a difference if she hadn't been nearly as close to him as she was. You wouldn't have had to pull out the cavalry and I wouldn't have to discipline my most promising recruit on this taskforce.”

“I thought we agreed, absolutely NO contact with the prisoner-war criminal!”

Smith shrugged and fumbled in his coat pocket for a loose cigarette. “The kid was doing good. Have you watched her sessions with him? The freak won't shut up when she's around.”

“That doesn't mean-”

“Do you guys notice anything interesting?” You interjected drily, tired of the two men talking over you as if you were no longer there. 

The both turned to you. Dolphe's jaw was set in a hard line, and Smith cheeks were red and splotchy, unlit cigarette dangling limply from his lips. 

After a moment of silence, you lifted your shoulders and gestured to yourself. 

“I'm _alive_.”

Dolphe dropped his face into his hands, exasperated, but Smith tilted his head to the side, intrigued. 

“That, you are...” He said slowly.

“Do you think I would've put myself in that position if I wasn't a hundred percent sure that I was worth more to him alive than as a corpse?” You half-lied. You hadn't anticipated the _freakin illusion magic._

“Human lives mean _nothing_ to him,” Dolphe seethed. “Have you been paying any attention? He isn't just some guy you can bat your eyelashes at and expect-”

“Excuse me?!” You cut him off, rising from your chair and marching straight towards Dolphe, anger bubbling up from an unexpected place at his brazen assumption. “How _dare_ you-”

“That's enough!” Agent Smith barked, his doughy neck wobbling as the words echoed in the small space. “I will not tolerate this squabbling. Dolphe, this is no longer your taskforce. I expect you to leave my agents to conduct their business as I see fit. And you,” he said, rotating his wide frame to look you sternly in the eyes. “I appreciate your commitment to this team.” 

Dolphe gawked.

“That being said, go home. You've done enough for today.”

“But, I need to see how-”

“That's an order, (y/n). We'll discuss your actions at length, tomorrow.”

You bit your lip until you thought you might draw blood, then gave a reluctant sigh. “Yes, sir.”

You nodded to Smith and turned towards the door, shooting Dolphe a glare.

“(Y/n)-”

“Can it,” you growled as you shoved by him. 

You took one look down the hallway and noticed that a guard had been posted by the interrogation room door. 

Damnit.

Disregarding any notions of trying to sweet-talk your way in (you knew Smith wasn't going to have that), you plodded to the elevator and left the Library, tugging at your hair in sullen frustration.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Hello! I just wanted to pop in ahead of your irregularly scheduled update to say that I really appreciate all the kudos and the comments you guys leave! Just the fact that you allow your eyeholes to absorb some of the nonsense that comes out of my brain is flattery enough, honestly. But comments are cool too. I LOVE hearing what you guys think. So, quick chapter this evening (the second part was too long to post in conjunction with this, and I didn't want to chop it up). Once I get back from work tomorrow, I will proofread the remainder and post it! Love you guys!_
> 
> ***********************************************************************************************************

“So, a whole week, huh?”

Lena took a dainty sip from her martini, tucking a strand of platinum hair behind her ear as you rolled your eyes. 

“I said I really don't want to talk about it.” You grasped your glass on the counter in front of you with both hands, shoulders hunched forward. The techno music pulsed around you, the vibrations causing rhythmic ripples to mar the surface of your drink. 

“Clearly,” she yelled over the roaring cacophony. She flagged down the bartender with a tanned hand as you drained the last of your drink. “Two more, thank you!” She shouted. 

As your drinks were replenished, Lena scooted her chair closer to you, shoving her face by yours. 

“Can we please go somewhere else? If you didn't want to talk about it, you wouldn't have called me!”

You shook your head, squinting your eyes shut. “Not true! I just wanted a night out, is that too much to ask?” You sighed, eyeing the last sip in your glass and making a mental note to slow down. “Smith was right. I've been cooped up in the Library for weeks, I deserve a vacation.” You winced. His exact words had been “….get the hell out of this sardine can before you give Greasy another chance to rip your spinal column out through your throat.”

Lena shook her head. “I still can't believe you did that. You could've died!” She squealed and clasped her hands together, sounding a bit giddier than her words should imply. “How was it? What were you feeling? Did you feel his muscles? What did he _smell_ like-”

“Jesus, Lena!” Heat burned at the back of your neck and ears, and you swiftly downed the rest of your drink, savoring as the alcohol burned your throat and began to lighten your head. 

She pursed her lips, fighting back a smile. “I heard his skin is cold. Like _really_ cold. Was it? God, I'd use him as an icepack on my-”

“He smelled woodsey and oddly medicinal, okay? Like...chewing spearmint gum while you power-saw through a pine tree. Is that enough? Please, no more questions?” You cut her off through gritted teeth, holding your glass as the bartender refilled it for the fifth time.

Lena slapped her hand to her lips, stifling a giggle. “That's such a weird thing to remember! You'd think during a trauma like that, you be focused on more….important details.” She threw you a wink and you let your head fall into your hands, slowly tapping your forehead to the wooden counter top. You weren't about to explain the, sometimes powerful, relation of sensory stimuli to high stress or traumatic experiences to Lena. Not that you had felt particularly stressed during.... It was strange, but you had never felt like you were in any actual danger.

“Just because you have some weird infatuation with dangerous alien bad guys doesn't mean the rest of us do.” The counter muffled your words, but you knew they wouldn't sway Lena's bizarre line of questioning anyway; she had been asking you for strange details about your encounter with Loki since she picked you up from your place earlier that evening. “I'm profiling the guy, Lena. Details are kind of the whole point.”

She stuck her nose in the air, sipping on her martini with her pinky out. “Whatever you say, I'm still slightly jealous. Not to mention, curious. Didn't he kill, like, a boatload of S.H.I.E.L.D agents before us?”

You shot her a glare, and she shrugged her shoulders, finishing her drink in one long sip. 

“Whatever, fine. You win. But your victory comes with one condition.”

You raised your eyebrow at her. Anything to make her stop asking you about Loki. 

“We celebrate your continued existence, and paid suspension, my way.” A sly smile played across her lips, and she folded her arms across her body, leaning forward to catch the bartender's attention with a bat of her long lashes. 

“Sweetie, can we get a couple of F-bombs over here?”

“Lena, what on Earth is an F-bomb?”

She wiggled her hand at you, waving off your question. “It's fine, you'll like it.”

The bartender placed two shot glasses and two taller shooters filled with an amber liquid in front of you, and you leaned forward to sniff them. Fiery cinnamon stung your nose and you pulled back, casting wide eyes at Lena. 

“What? You wanted to go to a bar. Let's get drunk!” She picked up her shotglass and tapped it against your own, dropping it into the shooter and chugging the liquid before the splash had even settled. 

You let out a hesitant sigh, massaging your temple with one hand. She had a point, and now, thanks to your reckless actions, you were banned from the Library for the next seven days. You contemplated the risk and reward of surrendering to Lena's social pressure for a brief moment, exhaling hesitantly. Might as well let loose a bit. 

Right?

“Oh, didn't you have a date with fedora guy?”

You froze, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. 

Following Lena's example, you watched the liquids mix as you dropped the whiskey into the shooter of Redbull, then took the shot. 

Lena giggled and clapped her hands, satisfied that she'd finally gotten to you. “Bartender, keep 'em coming!”


	9. Chapter 9

Four F-bombs later, and you were dragging Lena from the mutli-colored lit dance floor by her elbow, drunkenly marching towards the exit. Luckily, the bar was within walking distance from your apartment (for the most part), so for the next twenty minutes you held onto Lena's slight frame, pointing her in the right direction and making sure she didn't fall face-first off the side of the curb and onto the asphalt. 

Arriving at the old brick building that was your apartment complex, you fumbled for your keys. Lena giggled in your ear as you tried in vain to slip the metal into the keyhole, and despite the awareness you had of your surroundings, you found yourself devolving into fits of laughter, which only made Lena laugh harder. 

“Open doors much?” Lena cackled as you dropped your keys for the second time. 

“Shuddup, I gots it,” you mumbled, and you heard the click of the key twisting in the lock. The two of you stumbled up the four flights of stairs to your unit, and you were able to choose the correct key on the first try. 

Lena crossed the living room, immediately splaying herself across your couch. “What's on HBO,” she asked the TV, swiping the remote and fiddling with the buttons. 

“I'm gonna make some coffee,” you said, taking slow, staggering steps to the kitchen, right off the living room. 

“Make mine aaaaaa java chip frappaccino, sub almond milk and extra whip please, barista-lady,” Lena sang from the other room, giving up on the TV and tossing the remote on the floor. 

“You betcha.”

You stared at the dark liquid as it trickled from the machine into the glass pot, steam billowing through the pour spout. The rich smell invaded your mind and you already felt yourself being pulled from the alcohol-induced haze. 

Once the coffee was done, you brought the two steaming mugs out into the living room, placing them on the table in front of the couch. Lena sat up slowly to the aroma, eyes closed, and blindly tried to locate the scalding mug with her thin hands. 

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. “I'll grab you some PJ's. Clearly, you're staying here tonight.”

“Awe, thanks _mom_ ,” she retorted, raising the mug to her lips and taking a tiny sip. “Damn, that's hot,” she groaned.

You grabbed some Tweety bird PJ bottoms and an oversized band tee from your bedroom, tossing them to Lena before heading to the bathroom to take a quick shower. 

You let the hot water wash over your skin, rinsing your hair and scrubbing the scent of booze and second-hand smoke from your body. For a brief moment, the hot water ran cold, and your flesh pricked at the frigid change. 

Kind of like when he touched you. 

You shivered and shook your head, trying to drown out the thoughts. Sobriety was returning faster than you would've liked, although it was nice that the room was no longer spinning. The water was scalding again, and you assumed that Lena had just used the second bathroom. 

Sighing, you left the warmth of the shower, reluctantly slipping on a pair of shorts and a sleep tee, trudging out to the living room to check on your inebriated friend. She was just walking back out of the hallway. She flopped back onto the couch, ripping the blanket draped across the back around her body. “Your stupid coffee burned my tongue,” she slurred, sticking her tongue out at the same time as she spoke. 

“I have a guest room. You don't have to sleep on the couch,” you said, opening a linen closet by the entrance to the hallway and retrieving a set of spare sheets. 

“Nah, it's all good. I like these pillows.” She hugged four decorative pillows against her abdomen, using her legs to stabilize them. She kind of looked like a sloth. A skinny, blonde sloth whose mascara was starting to smudge. 

There was a knock at the door, and Lena perked up. “Oh, I'll get it!” She exclaimed, and ran to the door with a speed you didn't think she could attain in her current state, causing the pillows to scatter across the floor. She yanked open the door and stuck her head out before you could object. It was after midnight. Who was knocking on your door after 12am? Must be a neighbor, since they hadn't rung the building doorbell.

Lena's head tilted to the side, and she slid back a step, gently resting the door in its frame. 

“Ima let you take this one,” she said slyly, wiggling her eyebrow. “Oh, and I think I will take the guest room.” She snatched the sheets from your surprised grasp, and headed down the hallway. 

“Lena, it's-”

“Don't worry, I'll find it!” She cut you off and started skipping down the hallway with a massive grin plastered across her face.

_What?_

Cautiously, you approached the door, slowly dragging it open. 

On your threshold stood Dolphe, arms crossed in front of his body, a bundle of red roses in hand. His trademark fedora was missing, and his short brown hair was tousled, jaw set as he stood before you in the same clothes that you had see him wear to work earlier that day, when you went in for your meeting with Agent Smith. 

Your head fell to the side and you stared at him in confusion. 

“Why are you here?” You finally uttered, head still swimming slightly from the alcohol. 

“Apologies, I know it's late,” he started, nervously squeezing his forearm. “To be honest, I dropped by earlier, but you weren't home, and as I was driving back I thought I saw you come upstairs. Figured it was worth a shot.”

“How did you get upstairs?”

He blinked once. “It was open,” he said, sounding slightly confused. “Whoever came in last must not have closed it. Don't worry, I made sure to shut it behind me properly.” Lena had been the last one in, and you were positive neither of you were too concerned about making sure the door shut, so that seemed to check out.

“Is everything okay? If it's a bad time, I can come back later.”

“It's after midnight,” you stated bluntly, and you felt the smallest ember of anger start to burn in your abdomen at the memory of your last interaction. 

“I know, I know. I just wanted to apologize.” He lifted the roses, looking as though he had temporarily forgotten he'd had them. 

"I'm not su-” you started to say, but the room slanted and pitched, and you lost your balance, feeling yourself start to careen to the side. Dolphe lunged forward to grab you, bracing himself against the door and sweeping you up with one strong arm. 

“Are you drunk?” He asked, walking you to the couch and laying you down. 

“I'm fine,” you spat, batting his arm from around you and sitting up. You grabbed your still-warm mug of coffee and started sipping it intently, suddenly intrigued with the swirling wood grain pattern of the coffee table. 

The two of you sat in tense silence for the next few minutes, and you felt like the air was charged with a frigid sort of electricity. Dolphe was the first to speak. 

“You left early today.”

You glared at him out of the corners of your eyes, keeping your face front. “Didn't you hear? I've been suspended.”

“Oh.” Awkwardly, he placed the bundle of roses gingerly on the coffee table, and his hands on either of his knees. “And for how long are you suspended?”

“A week.” You laughed bitterly, tucking a strand of damp hair behind your ear as you twisted your torso to face him. “Not even for my 'reckless actions', as you put it. According to Agent Smith, I'm on mandatory leave because I tampered with S.H.I.E.L.D surveillance equipment.”

“Well, your actions _were_ reckless,” he replied casually, leaning back against the couch and propping his arm across the top cushions, his fingers dangling just above your closest shoulder. 

“I thought you said you were here to apologize, not be a dick about it,” you muttered. Your blood still felt thick, and your mind seemed to race in an attempt to catch up with your rapidly beating heart. 

“Not my intention to be a _dick_.” He sounded more inquisitive than annoyed, but you weren't sure if that was your blurred perception. “It's just rather….curious that your solution to this suspension is to drink yourself under the table. Loki must have really gotten under your skin.”

Before you could catch yourself, your hand was flying on its own, arcing towards Dolphe's sharp jawline. In just as surprising a moment, he lifted his hand, clasping his fingers around your wrist and stopping your palm before it reached its intended target. 

Blood pooled in your cheeks, and you tried to snatch your hand back, frantic when his grip didn't loosen. 

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. “I didn't mean to do that, I just-”

“It's fine.” He released your wrist after a moment and it fell limply into your lap. You saw the muscles in his jaw clench as he gritted his teeth, and you drew back. His chest rose and fell in deep, measured breaths, and suddenly the air felt different. 

“It's not about Loki,” you mumbled, realizing you hadn't even tried to defend yourself. “It's about me. _My_ research. _My_ findings. I want to be the one to do it, and I _can't_ if I'm stuck here doing nothing!” As the words came out, they felt wrong, and you realized that you'd been yelling when you saw Dolphe's face. He had one brow arched and he was leaning back slightly, eyeing you curiously. 

“I think you're being a tad modest, (y/n),” he said in his gravelly, yet soft, tone. 

“Modest?! I literally just said it's _all about me_ ,” you strained your voice, balling your fists against the hem of your shorts and trying to swallow the revolt you felt building in your throat. 

“Yes, but I'm pretty sure you know you're not being entirely truthful,” he spoke matter-of-factly. He shifted his body to lean forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and lowering his face to yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and you kept your eyes cast down, red spots starting to dot your vision as you felt the blood rush through your skull. “So tell me. What's your fascination with the most hated being on the planet?”

Silence enveloped the two of you, and you realized your shallow, uneven breaths were the only thing permeating the stillness. “Tell me,” Dolphe pressed, placing one of his hands on yours. You flinched, but didn't pull away, squeezing your eyes shut in protest of the visions flashing across your addled mind. Emerald eyes, intense but intellectual, a softness residing somewhere just around the edges of his irises. You shook your head, whipping damp strands of hair across your cheeks. 

“What is it about him?” Dolphe almost commanded, his fingers closing around yours a bit too firmly to be comfortable. 

“I don't hate him,” you murmured softly, surprised as you felt a hot tear escape the corner of your eye and trickle swiftly down your flushed cheek, dropping onto your bare leg beneath. 

Dolphe tilted his head to the side, staring intently at the moist trail the tear had left. 

“He's a murderer,” he said tightly. 

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “Yes.”

“He betrayed his own people, and waged a war against a planet he could never understand,” he added flatly, tapping his finger against the back of your hand in an absent manner. 

“It's how we react to the things that happen to us that make us who we are. Sometimes it's not always right, but that's how we grow.” You felt numb as you spoke, a chill setting in at the base of your spine and causing the hairs on the back of your neck to prick. You brought your hand up to wipe at the wetness marring your face, but he caught your wrist, once again. 

“He did get one thing right, though,” he mused, his gaze roving across your face and down to where your clavicle was barely obscured by your T-shirt. He moved his fingers to your face, and stroked your cheek dry, regarding you with softening hazel eyes. “You are rather lovely.”

He pulled you to him gently, placing your hand against the side of his neck and releasing it, trailing his fingers across the inner crook of your elbow and up to your cheek. You sat frozen, eyes wide and still damp. Slowly, you watched as he lowered his face to yours, his warm breath washing over your parted lips, begging hesitant permission. 

“What-” you began dumbly, your head buzzing and trying its best to form a coherent thought. 

Dolphe smiled sadly, and you felt a pang in your chest. “If you want me to leave, I will. I promise, I won't touch you any further. Not until you ask me to.” He dropped his hand from your face, the tips of his fingers trailing along your thigh and sending an unexpected jolt shooting through your abdomen. Instinctively, you shot your arm out, wrapping rigid fingers around his large wrist. You stared at him, unable to comprehend the thoughts reeling around in your skull. The beats of your heart came in uneven bursts, their frequency rivaling the shallow rise and fall of your chest. 

You threw yourself forward, flinging your arms around his neck and letting your lips meld with his, his shock seeming to ebb as the seconds went by. He wrapped his arm around your ribcage, crushing you to his chest and deepening the kiss. 

Maybe this is what you needed.

You straddled his lap, propping yourself against the couch by your knees in order to gain leverage against his much larger frame. His free hand circled your thigh, resting against your hip and pulling you down against him. You broke the kiss with a gasp, and he immediately dropped his lips to your neck, peppering the delicate flesh with swift kisses that quickly devolved to more sensuous licks and nips, and you shuddered. His mouth was too hot...

You refused to believe that you were pining for Loki. 

You dropped your head, and your hair hung in front of your eyes like a curtain, shielding you from Dolphe's intent gaze. The spot where Loki had planted his arctic kiss against your throat burned and you shut your eyes in frustration, frantically searching for Dolphe's lips once more. You drew your shaking hands up to encircle his neck, trying desperately not to think of how you longed to tangle your fingers in long, raven hair. He trailed his fingers down to the small of your back, smiling against your lips as he elicited a shiver from you at his touch.

How would it feel to be pressed against _his_ bare chest? His smooth, porcelain skin quenching your every burning desire?

It would be unacceptable. 

A sudden anger flared in your chest, and you hardened your resolve. You weren't letting Loki do this to you. You didn't know what his intentions were, or why he had seemed to take an interest in you, but you were sure you were playing right into his hands by allowing yourself to feel this way. 

No. 

You parted your lips more easily, meshing them with Dolphe's with renewed fervor. You fumbled with the buckle of his belt, breathing him in and allowing yourself to feel every part of him. He was good. Uncomplicated, and not a mass murderer. Slowly, you allowed your mind to cloud and you let go of everything you _wanted_ to feel, and accepted the things you had, right now. 

You wouldn't let him win.

**********************************************************************************************

You woke to a sweet aroma wafting through the air, and you sat up sleepily, extending your arms over your head in a much-needed stretch after last night. You instantly retracted your arms, becoming very aware of your naked body and the fact that you did not sleep alone. The blood rushed to your cheeks and you hugged your knees to your chest, trying frantically to replay the night's events in your mind. There was the bar, and Lena, and...Dolphe just...showed up? Your hands flew to your face, scorching your fingertips against your heated cheeks, eyes going wide. 

_Oh my God. I slept with Dolphe._

You slid under the covers, willing yourself to melt into the comfort of the sheets, but to no avail. 

Finally, you let out a sigh, getting begrudgingly to your feet and tossing on some shorts and a tee. You shuffled out to the living room, where the pillows that Lena had so carelessly dropped everywhere had been rearranged on the couch. Peering into the kitchen, you saw Dolphe, wearing the same clothes he'd had on the night before, in front of the stove. He had a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and he was just flipping what looked to be the last of a batch of golden-brown pancakes onto a third plate. Three plates?

“Morning, sleepy-head,” Lena cooed from across the room, having taken a seat in the adjourning dining area right off the kitchen. She tossed you a wink. “Didja sleep well? I know you did, because your place has reeaalllyyy thin walls.” You blushed so deeply, you're pretty sure you turned a shade that hadn't been discovered yet. 

“Look who's up,” Dolphe beamed from the kitchen, grabbing two of the plates and sliding the third onto his forearm with deft precision, taking long strides to deliver them to the dining room. “There's juice in the fridge, but I'm sure you know that, as this is your home.” He pulled out a chair, gesturing for you to join them. Lena waggled a brow at you. Hesitantly, you dragged yourself into the dining room, taking the seat between Dolphe and Lena. 

Lena leaned forward, brushing your ear with her lips. “If you don't keep him, I will. You've been warned. My God, you were making some happy noises last night. I'm kind of jealous.” You straightened up, pulling away from her and clearing your throat, hoping Dolphe hadn't heard that, even though he was only two feet away. You heart plummeted when you saw him stifle a snicker and delve into his pancakes. 

You smiled sheepishly as you plucked your fork from the table. “Can you pass the syrup?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So...this has been written for...5 months? Almost 6? I've been reconsidering posting it because of...reasons. I've been neglecting this fic because of the direction it took, but this is the direction it took. I'd like to either wrap up this particular story OR continue with it, if my currently absent muses see fit. The next chapter is also written (I had to split this scene in two). I hope you guys are still enjoying the story, I know it's been a hot minute since I've updated anything. I'm honestly trying, it's just been a bit difficult lately. I hope everyone is enjoying their holiday time, and I'll talk to you guys again in a bit :) ___
> 
> _  
>   
> _
> 
> _  
> _************************************************************************************__  
> 

The next few days flew by relatively quickly, and before you knew it, it was time to return to the Library. Dolphe had stayed over nearly every night of your suspension, and neither of you had any complaints. 

You shouldered your bag and exited your car, taking in the sight of the dreary gray-toned building, and a slight surge shot through your chest as you walked across the parking lot, not knowing exactly what awaited you inside. You rode the elevator down in silence, alone with your numbing thoughts until the doors slid open and you were presented with the familiar labyrinth of hallways and offices. After a moment, you begrudgingly took one step from the elevator, followed by another, sluggish and hesitant. 

It had been a week and one day since your last interaction with Loki and, for a reason that made you red in the face to think about, you were nervous to face him again. Agent Smith had contacted you briefly to give you an update on Loki's status, only to say that he hadn't so much as moved since they'd let out his chains. With a muted sigh, you stared at the handle of the thick door before pressing it open, steeling yourself against whatever may await you on the other side of the observation glass. 

His back was facing you, and he had his hands placed behind his head, his feet kicked up on the steel table, the way he usually presented himself when anyone came to check on him. As quietly as you could, although you knew he'd already heard you, you placed your bag on the desk and withdrew your notepad and pencil, clutching them to your chest as a sort of shield against the god in the other room. You sat in silence for more than thirty minutes before trying to engage him. You'd hoped that he would make the first move. 

You cleared your throat. “So, how was your weekend?”

He stood up, flipping his chair around to face you and retook his seat in a fluid motion. 

“My, agent,” he said slyly, raising one dark brow. “You are absolutely glowing. I take it your….adjournment was well suited to you?” He flashed a devilish grin and tapped one long finger against his bottom lip as his gaze slowly roved over you, from head to toe. “Yes, you seem much more...temperate.”

You shifted uncomfortably, averting his gaze and pushing out the less-than-appropriate thoughts that he had been _very_ prevalent in within the passed week. 

“Yeah, well. I'm back now, and I was hoping you would actually give me some straight answers for once, seeing as you did almost kill me last week.” You crossed your legs and straightened your posture, pressing the lead of the pencil to the crisp, white paper in uncertain anticipation. “I figure you owe me that much.”

He tossed his head back in scornful laughter. “Do I, now? What more could I have to give to you, agent?” His words were laced with a mysterious and unsettling malice, and an odd voice in the back of your mind told you to tread carefully. He'd picked up conversation so quickly and casually, it felt like you'd never left. 

You cleared your throat. “Firstly, I'd like to apologize about our last session being cut short, and my absence this passed week.”

His discomposing smile dropped and he cocked his head to the side. “You're apologizing because I attacked you?” His slight confusion restored a semblance of your confidence, and you continued. 

“Is that what that was?” You were genuinely curious. “Based on your track record, I should be dead.”

“How was Agent Dolphe in bed, agent? Satisfactory? It would appear so.”

You faltered, almost falling over in your chair. You shot him a cold look, brushing off his words and continuing. “Why didn't you kill me?” You asserted, words edged with steel. 

He leaned back, a mischievous smile tugging at his thin lips. “I'll answer yours when you answer mine.”

“I'm not discussing this.”

“Then I have nothing left to offer.”

You clenched your teeth together, stabbing the lead of the pencil through the fabric of your pants in annoyance. 

“He was _fucking fantastic_ ,” you conceded in as low of a voice as you could manage, praying that none of the mics would pick it up. 

A wide grin broke out across his face and he shook his head, his dark hair falling in stark straight strands against his high cheekbones. “You little harlot.”

“Answer my question,” you bristled. 

“I've told you,” he replied curtly. 

You paused, pretending to wipe a mote of dust off your sleeve to give yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. “You plan to make me suffer before you kill me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but that seems to be a slightly difficult feat with you chained like a rat in there. And you've even managed to revoke your visitors privileges.” You tapped the pencil against your cheek absentmindedly. “So as long as you're just sitting there, I figured we could have an actual conversation.”

He spread his hands, the thick chains dragging eerily across the concrete. “Is that not what we're doing? My turn.” He leaned forward on his elbows, steepling his fingers together under his chin. “Do you fancy him?”

You ignored him, chewing your lip as your heart flitted nervously. This felt...strange, even for a conversation with the Trickster God. “That was a neat trick back there,” you said, the memory of the bright green light fizzling and dissipating the faux tape line to reveal that you had walked way passed the boundary within seconds of entering the interrogation room still fresh in your mind. “Where did you learn your magic?”

Loki was silent, his eyes betraying a seething and suppressed anger deep within their verdant irises. He clenched his jaw, the tendons visibly tensing underneath his taught, pale skin. 

“My mother, mostly,” he replied.

You nodded. “Is she on Asgard?” 

“She's dead,” he said flatly. “A few weeks, now.”

“Oh.” You didn't know how to react, and you could see that the subject weighed heavily on Loki's heart, as much as he was loathe to admit it. “I'm so sorry,” you said with genuine sadness, and this caused Loki to rear his head upwards, leaping to his feet and marching towards the glass. 

“I don't need your _pity_ , mortal,” he spat, his long arms crossed tensely behind his torso, as though he were holding himself back. 

You rose to your feet, attempting to match his stance so that he didn't tower over you quite as much. You nodded, holding his gaze with sympathetic eyes. “What will you do when you get out of this cell?” You asked softly. 

He was visibly taken aback, leaning on his heels as he pondered your question. You took his silence as uncertainty, and got the feeling that he hadn't given freedom any thought at all.

“Then may I ask you another question?” You continued, taking no joy in exploiting the somber mood that permeated the air. 

“I am powerless to stop you,” he answered bitterly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself against an enigmatic answer, or no reply at all. “Why are you here? Smith said you turned yourself in.”

“And you believe everything that is spoken to you? Hardly.”

“So, he's lying?”

Silence.

“The simple fact is that you're here. I don't know why you're trying to push away the one person who's trying to understand you.”

“Is that what this is? You'd like to be my _friend_ , agent?”

“I don't see the point of evasion. If you're here because you want to be, that's….fine. What's confusing is how you're acting towards me, which makes me feel slightly vain, because why on Earth is the God of Mischief giving me any sort of attention, not to mention special treatment?” Your words came out fast and jumbled, and you realized that you hadn't taken a breath. 

“(Y/n),” he said, startling you at the sound of your name slipping passed his lips. “May I ask you a question as well?”

You nodded hesitantly, a steady heat burning just under the skin of your cheeks. “Just keep my... _personal_ life out of it, if you'd please.”

You could have sworn you saw him falter, before regaining his composure and taking a leisurely step forward, until he was mere inches from the glass. He lowered his head, the devious smile once present on his face gone, his expression oddly stony. 

The silence pursued for several painstaking minutes as you waited for his question. The air felt heavy and thick, and you were grateful when the temperature seemed to drop a few degrees as the AC kicked on. 

You regarded him expectantly.

“ _'What is your fascination with the most hated being on the planet?'_ ” He spoke quietly.

You stared at him, brow furrowed, and not entirely understanding the manner in which he spoke. 

He straightened his posture, not breaking his green eyes away from your own widened ones. 

“I don't-”

Your heart abruptly slammed into your throat and you stumbled back, cupping a hand to your mouth in surprise. “Where did you hear that?” You whispered through your fingers. “Did Dolphe...”

Slowly, you began to realize what was happening, and your stomach threatened to lurch into your mouth. 

“It's funny, I haven't seen dear Agent Dolphe in quite a few days,” he said, tilting his head and holding your gaze. His face was blank, unreadable, and you couldn't sense anything from him. 

“How?” You whispered in subdued horror, falling back into the chair behind you and gripping the cold steel leg for support. He sighed and bowed his head. A shimmer of green dissolved the figure in front of you, and your eyes saw nothing but the empty interrogation room, a small white container still nestled in the far corner. 

“You've rather taken the fun out of this for me.”

You leaped to your feet and spun around, dropping your notepad in shock. Loki stood beside you, arms still folded behind his back, facing his would-be prison with an empty stare. 

“How-” You repeated dumbly, clutching the pencil in your hand until your knuckles threatened to break the taut skin. The blood drained from your face and you scrambled back, bumping the chair with your heel and nearly tripping. He cast his eyes down to you, as though you were an afterthought.

“You...It was...you…,” you breathed, your cheeks flushing with color. Your stomach heaved and you sprinted to the trash can besides the desk, willing yourself not to wretch.

You could almost feel Loki's frown behind your back, and you gripped the sides of the bin with your hands, focusing on taking even breaths. 

“I believe the words you used were 'fucking fantastic', and you're welcome,” he commented, sounding bored. 

You shook your head furiously, until your it was spinning and your mouth felt numb. You'd seen this before. Maybe it was another illusion. 

“No. Nope. Nuh uh. I don't believe you.” You ran your hands through your hair, mostly confident that you weren't about to expel your breakfast all over the place. 

“What's your _intuition_ telling you?” He spoke softly, and you felt him step behind you, running a long finger through the lengths of your hair and down to your shoulder. You shivered involuntarily and jumped away from him, turning on your heel and crossing your arms across the front of your body protectively. This wasn't an illusion.

“My intuition,” you repeated numbly. “The same intuition that let you...that let _you_...” You couldn't seem to find the words, least of all speak them aloud. 

“Ah, darling, it wasn't your _intuition_ that let me,” he whispered coolly, his lips brushing your ear. “To be honest, it was hardly even _me_. I went as a supportive friend, and you thrust yourself upon me. I only missed our talks, agent."”

“What have you done with Dolphe?” You said through gritted teeth, shivering as his frigid fingers caressed your shoulder, trailing down the inner crook of your elbow, and all the way to your wrist. 

“Absolutely nothing. He's probably sitting as his desk as we speak, although I'm sure he'll be overjoyed to hear that you jumped at the opportunity to bring him into your bed.”

Once again, you raised your hand to cover your mouth, broken exhales threatening to turn into choked sobs. “Oh my God,” you breathed, your mind still racing to keep up with the events as they unfolded. 

“You son of a…You made me _pancakes!”_ Your shock quickly dissolved into anger and you slammed the fist that held the pencil, lead-first, straight into his chest. It may have been more satisfying if the layers of leather coating his torso hadn't snapped the pencil like a twig before they could reach his smug, pale skin. His fingers clasped yours and he wrenched your wrist to the side, causing you to drop the remainder of the splintered piece of wood. 

“Now, that wasn't very nice.”

Your eyes searched the room desperately for the camera, certain that someone in the control room should have seen this by now. Loki followed your gaze lazily, grinning slightly when he realized what you were doing. “Don't fret. I assure you, no one will disturb us.” He lowered his lips to your temple, twirling a long finger around a piece of your disheveled hair. “As far as your machines are concerned, I'm still in that wretched room, playing hostage and you-” he nodded to the toppled chair in front of the glass, “-are right there, playing amicable captor.”

Your stomach plummeted, although somehow you'd expected this. 

“So what now, frost giant? Are you going to kill me? Or are you just going to toy with your food some more?” You layered the words with venom, for some reason thinking provocation was the best way out. If you could get him angry enough, maybe he would slip up. Either that, or your death might be quicker.

He chuckled, finally seeming to regain some of the cocky demeanor he'd been displaying ever since you'd met him. 

“Are you really trying to provoke me? When I could end your infinitesimal existence with a flick of my wrist? You are curious. No. I told you, when I'm done with you.” He looked at you, an odd expression starting to etch its way across his face. “And I'm not done with you.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _*TRIGGER WARNING*_  
>  Please note that this next chapter has some relatively strong content that will not be suitable for some readers. Please see the notes at the end of the chapter if you'd like to read my thoughts on it, I kind of explain why it's taken me so long to update, etc, etc. I will always label this kind of content in this fic and keep it sequestered within the chapter so that if you'd like to skip it while still following the story, you may.  
> As always, thank you so much for your continued interest in this story, I deeply appreciate every one of you.
> 
> _Also, I'm a bit sorry. ___
> 
> _  
>   
> _
> 
> _  
>   
> _
> 
> _  
> _****************************************************__  
> 

Faster than you could blink, he lifted you in his arms, taking swift steps towards the mid-sized desk nestled along the side of the observation room. You cried out in surprise, pounding your fists against his broad shoulders as he walked, only managing to scrape the sides of your hands against his armor plating. 

“Put me down!” You warned shakily as you bobbed up and down in time with his strides. 

“We had so much fun together the passed few days,” he purred. “I figured we could have some more fun now, without all of the...well, deception.” You felt the smirk that was, no doubt, plastered on his face as he came to a halt and set you down lightly, shredding the fabric of your pants without the slightest hint of exertion on his face. Your eyes widened as you felt the cool surface of the desk beneath you press against your bare thighs, and you scrambled to cover yourself. 

“What the hell,” you said flatly, your head beginning to spin at the implication of his sudden actions. “Loki, what are you _doing?”_

He collected both of your wrists on one hand as he deftly used his other hand to unlace his leather pants, tugging them down just low enough for you to catch a glimpse of his already massive erection. 

“Oh God,” you whispered, looking up at him and trying to shield the fear in your eyes. 

“That's correct,” he replied, pulling you against his chest and spreading your legs so they were on either side of his hips.

“Yield to me,” he asserted softly, the command not matching his tone of voice. “I wouldn't relish taking you by force.” His hands gripped your thighs firmly, slowly inching them apart so he could position himself. Squirming uselessly, you whipped your head to the side, unable to look at him. 

“No,” you spat. “I can't imagine that you'd do something as depraved as that.” Sarcasm dripped from your words like poison, and your fingers twitched with rage as you curled them against the laminate of the desk beneath you. “Does this make you feel better? Does this give you a sense of _control_ , Loki?” You met his gaze as you named him, to emphasize your point, and your heart skipped several beats as you saw his expression. His face was polished stone, jaw set and lips pulled in a thin frown. 

“Very well,” he snarled, and pulled you against him tightly, one arm snaking around your leg to hold you in place against his torso, the other ensnaring the back of your neck in a vice-like grip, clawed fingertips digging into your skin. You let out a surprised yelp at the sudden movement, and Loki bristled, shoving his forehead against your own and glaring at you from under hooded lids. 

“I'll have you now, and once I bring you over your edge, I'll snap your neck.” He flexed his fingers in mock demonstration and you gritted your teeth, returning his glare with as much hate and anger as you could muster. 

“Last chance. _Yield._ ” His voice was strained, and he was pressing his fingers into your flesh with such force that you could already feel the bruises beginning to form. 

Leaning forward, you shoved your nose as close to his face as you could manage, before firmly stating “Bite me.”

He growled, exasperated. The hand encircling your neck grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked backwards, exposing your throat and forcing your eyes to the ceiling. His lips were at your ear, his frigid breath prickling the sensitive skin just below your jawline. “Don't pretend you haven't wanted this, _agent_ ,” he seethed as his fingers trailed along your inner thigh, halting just before he reached your exposed womanhood.

“Are you insane-”

“Do you know you talk in your sleep?” He said, softer this time. “If it had actually been Agent Dolphe, I fear the relationship may not have lasted long, anyhow.” His lips moved to your cheek. “You murmured _my_ name, whilst in slumber's embrace. For a moment, I thought you knew.” He removed his hand from your thigh to cup your face. “And I was almost grateful,” he whispered, shutting his eyes against your forehead, lashes tickling your skin. 

You had been working on keeping your breathing steady, inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale. You knew you couldn't fight him off. Your only chance was to make him see reason and release you, or...comply. 

Loki was clearly conflicted, an emotion you hadn't often seen in him. Perhaps you could use this to your advantage. 

“You don't have to do this, Loki,” you whispered fearfully, voice shaking as you felt the stiff flesh of his cock rub against your exposed skin. 

“What's different, (y/n)? You've been welcoming me into your bed for days now,” he said lowly, eyes still closed and pressed to your face. “Even now, I can feel that you ache for me.” He pressed lightly against you and you tried to scramble backwards, but he held you fast. Your breath hitched in your throat and you swallowed thickly. 

“For one, we're not in my bed, are we?” You rambled nervously. “We're in a state-of-the-art government facility, an agency that thinks they have you on lockdown. Why not just leave?”

“Enough,” he growled, eyes snapping open. His hand returned forcefully to your thigh, squeezing so hard you had to stifle a whimper, which only seemed to excite Loki further. You flinched at the pulsing flesh poised at your opening. 

“Mine,” he seemed to say to himself, his usually sharp eyes, cloudy. “I need to make you mine.”

“No-”

His hand dropped from your neck to solidly ensnare your waist, making mobility a distant dream. 

“You really are a monster,” you breathed in horror, damp eyes searching his desperately. “The world is right to hate you.”

He tilted his head and you saw his jaw clench with resolve. “Thank you, for making this easier for me.”

He thrust his hips forward, at the same time pulling your torso against him, and you bowed your head into his chest, stifling your scream against his leather armor. He filled you completely, and hot tears sprang from the corners of your eyes. 

You knew you had been playing a dangerous game, but how could you have let it go so wrong? How could _you_ have gotten it so wrong? 

He withdrew himself slowly, fighting ragged breaths as he tried to control his pace. He pushed back inside you, and your hands clawed at his sleeves, curling your fingers against the leather adornments. 

“Loki,” you choked. “Stop, please.” You pleaded with him as he continued to move steadily inside you, seemingly trying to give you time to adjust without saying as much. He moved a lithe hand to cradle your head, tangling his fingers in your hair, his breaths coming in broken gasps against your ear. He picked up his pace, slamming against your pelvis and causing objects seated on the desk to violently eject themselves from the surface, raining across the floor. A warmth began to spread from in between your legs, culminating in a fiery knot in your abdomen, and you folded a hand to your face in shame. You shook your head, silently crying into your palm as you fought to control your body. 

“I yield,” you whispered, tears streaming down your face as you raised your head, searching Loki's green eyes for a semblance of the intelligence that you still knew was in there, somewhere. “I yield.”

Without breaking his pace, he took your jaw roughly in his hand, lowering his face and crashing his lips against yours. You let it happen, submitting yourself to his torment and allowing a moan to escape the back of your throat as his cool tongue washed over your bottom lip. He was cold and smooth and tasted like how lavender smelled, and it was entirely intoxicating. The tears were still spilling over when your hands shot up on their own, tangling themselves in Loki's hair and pulling him down upon you, forcing yourself to focus on anything else than what was currently happening between your legs. You broke away as a particularly vicious thrust hit too deep and you gasped, snapping your head to the side to avoid his gaze. 

“I knew you would,” he said softly between breaths, moving his lips to gently plant kisses from your jawline to your clavicle. He shifted his weight and leaned you back, firmly pressing you against the desk with one hand as he palmed your thigh with the other, hitching it up higher to better angle himself. You felt your eyes roll into your skull as he plunged inside you yet again, your new position eliciting myriad new feelings that you still tried, in vain, to suppress. You let your body go limp, and you caught sight of your reflection in the glass window, your hazy forms dancing transparently across the surface. Your eyes were wet and lifeless; he moved swiftly and cruelly above you, not tearing his gaze from your face. You clamped your eyes shut, willing it all to be a bad dream. 

Clearly noticing your excessive submission, he gripped both of your thighs, raising them in the air and embedding himself as deeply as he could between them. The sensation shattered your numb resolve and you cried out, eyes flying open and back arching sharply against your perch. He set your rear back onto the desk roughly, gripping your arms this time and pulling you into his chest. 

“Speak my name,” he said firmly, his thrusts coming more swiftly and erratic now. 

“Loki,” you breathed, not tearing your wide eyes from his. His usual emerald irises had become almost completely obsidian, the lights from the interrogation room glinting dangerously in them. 

The knot in your abdomen began to tighten against your will, and you clenched your jaw, a pounding pressure beginning to form behind your eyes. Numbness crept up your legs, tickling the space where his pronounced hipbones were striking against yours. 

“Loki,” you moaned again, throwing your arms around his neck and bringing his lips back to yours. He grunted, gripping your face with one of his hands and keeping you still as your lips melded together harshly. He nipped at your bottom lip and you responded by taking his tongue into your mouth, pulling back slowly. You nudged your face against the crook of his neck, unable to hold yourself back any longer, uneven breaths tearing out of your lungs as your body spasmed against his. Fire ripped through your abdomen and culminated in a shower of sparks behind your eyelids, and you screamed silently against his shoulder, clutching his heavy garments with trembling fingers as your once-reluctant orgasm consumed you. 

“I'm yours,” you choked amidst your throes of anguish and unfortunate pleasure. You sobbed, dropping your head against him as he followed swiftly behind you. “I'm yours.”

He gripped your torso tightly as he pumped into you one last time, his body shuddering, a tortured groan escaping his throat. He squeezed you so tightly, you saw stars for the second time and your head grew even lighter. He rested his chin on your forehead, surprising you with a tender, albeit brief, kiss atop your hair. After a moment, his breathing began to even out and he withdrew himself from you, your legs collapsing lazily as he released them. He stroked your hair gently, and the two of you were enshrouded in a strange silence. 

He tensed suddenly, his body going rigid, fingers stopping dead in their tracks. A wave of revulsion and nausea washed over you and, for once, you didn't think it was yours. 

“Get out,” he growled, his voice dangerously low. He retreated several feet, re-lacing his pants and allowing you to slide off the desk and unsteadily to your shaking feet. You pitched forward, jellied legs unable to fully support your weight just yet, and he lurched instinctively to catch you. Once you were stable, he snatched his hands back, as though the mere touch of you burned him. 

“I don't have any pants,” you mumbled, eyes cast down at your bare lower half. You thought it was vaguely funny that that was the first thing that came to mind, once you were offered an escape. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and a shimmer of green enveloped you, fabric seeming to spring forth from midair to cloak your legs. 

“There. Now it looks like you do. Leave. _Now_.”

You just stared at him, hardly daring to wipe at the tears staining your flushed cheeks. 

“Damnit, (Y/n)! Leave now, or I promise you, I will kill you,” he seethed, jerking a finger at the door. He ran his other hand through his slicked hair in aggravation, causing strands to stick out at odd angles, and his eyes were that of a madman's; jet black with a fury that didn't seem to be directed outwardly, and you instantly recognized it as self-loathing. 

You turned to the door, stumbling as quickly as you could to leave that hellscape of a room.

Turning back briefly, you saw him dabbing at the tear trails you'd left on his clothes, staring at his moist fingers with a morbid curiosity. He turned briskly on his heel, his face void of emotion. To your surprise, he marched straight through a solid-looking wall, disappearing in a fizzle of green, only to reappear inside the interrogation room. Before he could turn around, you had slipped through the door, making straight for the elevator, your mind numb and your body anything but. 

You figured you'd take an early day today.

Your imaginary garments lasted until you gingerly slipped into your car. Dazed, you reached into the back seat for a jacket, which you mechanically knotted at your waist, shielding your body from any onlookers or traffic cameras. You drove to your apartment in silence, your face numb, eyes barely blinking. It wasn't until you parked that you broke down, doubling over in the drivers seat and resting your head against the steering wheel, your sobs coming in broken waves as you relived every terrorizing second of the ordeal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Phew. So, as I mentioned in the foreword of the previous chapter, this has been written for nearly six months. I must've been going through a bit of a dark time, because when I reread this, I ...was...a...*little* shocked. And upset. So, I tried NUMEROUS TIMES to rewrite this chapter. Like, NUMEROUS. Couldn't get any traction anywhere. I was like uuhhhhhh, misunderstood Loki: yes. Loki doing...that? Uhm. Well, he is canonically known for believing himself to be above humans. I can see him trying to gain control of the situation, especially if he's experiencing rough times (i.e, at this point, Frigga has recently died, he's probably a bit distraught. STILL NOT AN EXCUSE, but this is fiction. Which is still not an excuse). Also, yes, while he's been toying with you for the passed week, I think he dropped his guard and might've actually been enjoying himself a little bit, which brings me to my next brief topic: My main reason for struggling with posting Chapter 10 as is was that I don't think we got to see enough of you and Loki-Dolphe for the revelation to really hit home. I wanted to write at least another fluffy chapter or two before we find out Loki has been impersonating him but, ultimately, I chose to post it because it had been 6 months since I'd updated and I figured "hey, content." So I don't know if this will read a little hurried to newer readers who weren't waiting on me for the passed few months lol, but I apologize if this ruins the fic for you. I had always intended this to be a darker fic, although if I'm being honest, I didn't think it would include this kind of content. It still furthers the plot, I still have boatloads planned for our duo....I don't know guys. 
> 
> Heart-wrenching and over-the-line shit just gets my goat, ya know?
> 
> I'm not sure why I feel the need to explain myself. Maybe because I feel like I'm doing our best boi dirty? Anyway, this has been my rant. 
> 
> Sidenote, if anyone could recommend some good Loki fics, I would be uber appreciative. I haven't read anything in a while; I've just been getting really sick of wading through a bunch of....literature that is not my style?? Is that a more polite way to put it?? 
> 
> Once again, I wish you guys all the peace and love in the world, and I hope you stick around <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Trying to get back on that horse. Hope everyone is safe in these times <3_
> 
> _Random factoid: 'Randolph Dolphe' was just a filler name because I thought it was funny that his entire name was still just 'Randolphe' lol and I never changed it, even though I wish I had xD_  
> 
> 
> _This chapter feels a bit long winded, but hey- content?_
> 
> _Buckle up for some bro time, y'all!_
> 
> _Also, please feel free to let me know how the tone is. The majority of this I've had written for several months, but it takes me that long just to be comfortable and post what I've written lol (and STILL not even then). I can't tell if parts of this seem rushed. Either way, I hope it's something that still appeals to you._
> 
> _Thank you, guys!_
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were jolted awake from your uneasy sleep as your cellphone blared, the ringtone resonating deep within the base of your skull and causing your eyelids to throb. Lazily, you flung your hand out, searching the nearby dresser for the device. 

“Hello?” You answered groggily, not bothering to see who was calling. 

“(Y/n)?” Dolphe's voice echoed through the receiver and you felt your stomach plummet, the familiar tone of his voice sending waves of nausea over you. You cleared your throat, trying to recover your sense of self in that fractured instant. 

“Yes?” You replied warily, shifting yourself to a sitting position on the edge of your bed. 

He sounded almost apologetic, and you could imagine him wringing his hands together, fingers clasped in front of his torso. 

_No, that wasn't Dolphe,_ you thought bitterly, swallowing your revulsion. _That was Loki._

“I know you're not feeling well, and that you requested a few days off but...” He took a deep breath, seeming to brace himself for his own next words. “I know how… _important_ this project is to you, and I just thought you should know. We need you down here. Something is happening. We're getting readings that have only been seen a few times before, here on Earth. Your subject is acting squirrelly, like he knows something is coming, but he won't say what. He won't say anything.” He took a deep breath, awaiting your response. 

You held your breath, hardly daring to make a sound, for fear that it would shatter your current reality. All you wanted to do was be here, laying in bed; nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Being around people was too much right now. Being _there_...with _him_ …

“Agent Dolphe,” you began, stuttering slightly as you invoked him name. 

“We've been over this, you can call me Randy. I'm sorry for being so forward, but this is an emergency. Is there anyway you can come in today?”

You gritted your teeth, shutting your eyes as every fiber of your being screamed to fall back into bed, to just let sleep take you far, far away from all of this. 

Ignore it. Why should this concern you? It's just a job. This had already rooted too far into your personal life. If this was to continue, you had to learn to separate your work from everything else. 

Just...don’t. 

“I'm on my way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sprinted through the parking lot, a strange sense of urgency moving your feet across the pavement. The elevator ride down seemed to take longer than usual, and you tapped your toe impatiently against the linoleum. 

What could be so important?

You sighed, crossing your arms tightly across your chest and knowing that it was too early to be back here. 

_We move forward,_ you thought darkly to yourself. _Don’t give him the satisfaction._

_Ding!_

Finally, the elevator arrived at your floor, opening the doors to an eerily silent hallway. 

_Odd_ , you thought, and the soft padding of your shoes against the floor only served to enunciate the sheer lack of usual work-related white noise pouring from the multitude of offices. No phones ringing, no printers running nor babble of idle chatter broke the thick silence. 

A muffled crash sounded from somewhere ahead of you, and you broke into a run, rounding the corner and following your instinct that answers awaited in the interrogation room. Surely, Smith and Dolphe would be there with an explanation. 

“Coward!” A voice roared through the thick door, and you shoved it open, running frantically through to the interrogation room. Your feet scuttled to a stop, and you lurched back, bracing yourself against one of the low chairs at the sight that presented itself in front of you. 

Fair hair glinted in the bright light, reflecting harshly off of the metal armor coating a broad chest. Your eyes followed the thick muscles that wrapped themselves around a tanned arm, culminating in the fingers that were currently enclosed around the pale skin of Loki's neck, effectively lifting the demigod a good foot off of the floor, and leaving him scrambling at the accusers' wrist for support. The strange figure sported a crimson cape, and you thought it odd that it seemed to flow in a non-existent breeze. What you hadn't realized was the dull, grayish light that was filtering from somewhere above. A man-sized crater had opened in the ceiling of the interrogation room, and you gaped in awe, your mind racing to understand the information your eyes were gathering. 

“Coward,” Thor growled again, the low timbre of his voice reverberating throughout the room. Loki's only reply was to remain still, back pressed against the wall, lips drawn into a tight line, his emerald eyes locked onto Thor's own blue irises in a nonchalant gaze. 

“Do you have nothing to say, brother? Does your silver tongue, at last, fail you? Heimdall lost sight of you when you escaped New York with the Tesseract. I have half a mind to demand to know what you've been up to, but after Heimdall tracked you here...I'm almost loathe to ask.” He shook his head in disgust, the lengths of his blonde hair, falling squarely atop his massive shoulders. “Toying with the humans this way. Our mother taught you better-”

“ _Your_ mother,” Loki hissed, suddenly breaking his silence. He swatted at Thor's hand, knocking it from around his throat, and escaping his brother's grasp. “What merit do her teachings impose upon me?” You flinched at the harshness of his usually velvet voice, the words falling hollow upon those within earshot. “The woman was as naive as the peace she attempted to foster, a trait that proved to be her undoing.”

“You weren't there. You could never-”

“Why wasn't I there?!” He shrieked across the room, crossing the gap between him and the God of Thunder, shoving his nose squarely in his brother's face. “If you hadn't tried to _imprison me_ -”

“What course of action did you leave us with? You refuse to take accountability, Loki!” His thunderous voice reverberated through the room, causing the two-way glass to shiver in its frame, and you retreated a few steps, suddenly fearful of what would happen if either of them noticed you. 

Too late.

You felt your stomach plummet into the center of the Earth as Loki's eyes flickered to you for the briefest of moments, narrowing in disgust and immediately casting down to the ground. The lump in your throat was too great to swallow. You stood there frozen, white knuckles clenching the plastic backing of the small chair, your knees turning into rubber and forcing you to take a seat before you collapsed. Those eyes. The burning hatred, verdant flames encased beneath dark lashes. Hatred towards you?

_No_ , you thought, bitterly. _That's not fair. You didn't do anything wrong. He was the perpetrator._

Bile rose into your throat and you fought to swallow your revulsion, using your fingers as support to press your lips closed. 

“What would you know,” Loki spat, turning on his heel and walking briskly away from Thor, only to turn back suddenly. “All you've ever known was the warmth of Asgard's affections, He-Who-Would-Be-King.”

“Don't make this about us, Loki,” Thor warned, his rumbling voice charging the air with electricity. Even from this side of the glass, your skin pricked in response, and you shivered involuntarily, unable to tear your eyes away from the scene. “Your crimes have surpassed that of petty jealousy. Brother, please. Help me to understand-”

“Understand!?” Loki hissed, his eyes wide with genuine incredulity. “Don't make me laugh, _Odinson_. You've never understood a thing, save for the glories of your storied battles, and the praised they wrought. The rewards they granted _you_.” He let this settle for a tense moment, the light breeze whipping a loose strand of raven hair across his pained expression. 

“Loki, where is the Tesseract?” Thor growled, clenching Mjolnir, but keeping the fabled hammer by his side.

“Tell me, what punishment has Odin conjured for me this time? Am I to be cast into the pits of Niflheim? Or perhaps he will keep me closer, sentenced to the dungeons beneath the palace? I can't wait to find out.”

“Father will not speak with you. He has left your fate to me, and I will do what I must to ensure the safety and protection of the Nine Realms.”

Loki seemed to flinch back, visibly stunned by Thor's words. He quickly recovered, posturing himself and folding his hands behind his back, brow furrowed, and deep in thought. 

“So, I've finally brought Odin to his breaking point,” he mused, angling his chin at the floor. “How fitting, that he refuses to acknowledge the outcome of his own creation, yet _I'm_ the monster-”

“Damn it Loki, he's in mourning!” Thor roared, shattering the fluorescent lighting fixtures around him. Glass and sparks scattered around his massive form, glinting menacingly in the remainder of the flickering light, magnetic embers flitting between the godly brothers. “All of Asgard is!” He swung Mjolnir through the air and it gleamed an icy silver, as though it, too, were experiencing the loss of Frigga. “As am I.” His voice retreated from a shout, maintaining an authoritative tone, but softening around the edges of his words. “As are you.”

Loki scoffed, turning his head from his brother. “Hardly.” He scooped up the felled metal chair with a languid flick of his arm, setting himself upon it in just as fluid of a motion. “Tell me, brother. Since you refuse to leave me to my own devices, how may I be of service to you?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and his posture was rigid and unnatural, emerald eyes casting wary glances between the viewing room and his brother. 

He knew you were still there, watching them. You gulped, fingers tensing against the plastic of the chair. Thor, on the other hand, hadn't seemed to notice he had an audience.

_I should leave._

“Enough games, Loki. First, you will hand over the Tesseract. You have, once again, proven that you are not worthy to wield the power of an infinity stone.”

Loki leaned back in his chair and propped one leg atop the other, casually assessing Thor's demands.

“And if I refuse?”

“Loki, please don't make this worse than you already have.”

“Tempting,” Loki replied drily. “Continue.”

Thor hesitated, shuffling his feet and folding a lock of unruly golden hair behind his ear. “Return to Asgard with me. Brother, come home.”

“As your prisoner?”

“There are consequences to your actions. You must understand that. But after that justice is met, we can put this behind us. We can create a brighter future for the whole of the Nine Realms. Together.” He strapped Mjolnir to his waist, so that the hammer rested snugly at his side, and extended a hand to Loki. 

“Please. I need you by my side.”

Even from your dimly lit position in the viewing room, you could see the hope, that absolutely fragile emotion, sparkling in Thor's bright blue eyes.

Loki hesitated, offput by Thor's solemn demeanor. “You know, I almost prefer when you punch your way through things, rather than monologue. There's something so...demeaning,” Loki stated, rising steadily to his feet. 

“I am rather good at punching things, aren't I?” Thor chuckled lightly, not taking his eyes from his begrudging brother, arm still extended. 

You had almost forgotten you existed, until the sudden squeak of the door opening behind you caused you to come careening back into the present, away from the two gods speaking quietly to eachother in what was left of the interrogation room. 

You watched as Agent Smith came barreling through the doorway, the damp sheen of sweat already visible across his brow. Dolphe followed behind him, casting a surprised glance at you. “You got here quickly. Didn’t you notice we evacuated the entire floor?”

“Could’ve left a note,” you whispered, tension still freezing your limbs.

Dolphe nodded, looking passed you. “This little reunion just started a few minutes ago.” His hand clenched at his side, lips drawn into a tight line as he pondered the god-level situation unraveling in the next room.

He approached the glass warily, not taking his eyes from the younger of the gods, until he was standing at the intercom. 

Loki's voice grew quieter, tinged in annoyance as he realized that his audience had grown. 

“I'll admit, I've grown bored of Midgard. This realm's only appeal was that it was the last place I'd be, and now even that stratagem has failed me, thanks to your Watcher.”

Thor nodded uncertainly, tilting his head as his brow furrowed, ever so slightly. “Yes...the Tesseract keeps you shrouded from Heimdall's Sight. It seems unlike you to make a mistake that would expose you like this. I wonder what you did to attract his attentions. He didn't say much, but I sensed he was...deeply disturbed.” He cast a look at his surroundings: the quaint monochromatic cell, what was left of the fluorescent lights flickering above, the thick chain protruding from the ground at the foot of the overturned table. His eyes finally settled on Loki. “I'm beginning to understand why.”

Dolphe depressed the button, enabling the intercom. “Greetings, Thor Odinson, and welcome back to Earth.”

Smith seemed to snap into action then, shoving his way to the front of the room, and shouldering Dolphe from his spot by speaker. 

“Christ, move out of the way-” static and garbled noise assaulted everyone’s ears as he fumbled with the mic- “yes, Thor? I'm going to need you to step away from my prisoner. He is under the surveillance and jurisdiction of S.H.I.E.L.D for crimes committed against the Earth and it's citizens, and will, as such, face justice to the fullest extend of Earth's laws. Do you understand?”

The golden god threw back his shoulders, dropping his bemused gaze to the portly man currently giving him instruction. 

“Loki's crimes are not held against a single realm. I assure you, Asgard is the most appropriate setting for him; Midgard will receive justice through Asgardian law.”

“I said hold on, Thunderboy, hold on just one goddamn minute-” You watched in tempered horror, and slight amusement, as the two agents fought for control of the intercom. Dolphe dodged an elbow, and Smith struggled to gain the upper hand. After a moment of this, you couldn’t stomach anymore. 

Finally breaking from your stance, you bolted to the two agents, placing a hand on either of their shoulders and firmly yanking them apart. “Enough! You’re acting like children, the both of you.” You turned to Agent Smith, meeting his beady-eyed expression with a steely gaze. _“Agent Smith_ ,” you said as calmly as you could muster. “What’s the plan?”

Without averting his gaze, he moved his hand to hover above the intercom button, dismissing a protest from Dolphe. “Something I think you’ll approve of, Agent (Y/n).” He depressed the button, addressing Thor. 

“(Y/n) has been working with your brother for a few weeks now, and has seen the most success in communicating with him.” He paused to clear his throat, and you dodged a narrow look from the God of Mischief. “My terms: you let one of my agents accompany you as a representative of Earth, to guarantee that our planet has some say in whatever justice is decided, and I let you walk out of here with the prisoner.”

Dolphe's jaw dropped, and he immediately shook his head, shooting out a hand to cut off the transmission. 

Thor chuckled, glancing briefly at the gaping hole in the ceiling of the underground compound. 

“I assure you, walking won't be necessary, and neither will your permission.” He lowered his gaze, a look of introspection etching itself into his features. “However, I recognize the pain and hardship that Loki has put you through.” 

Your heart lurched into your throat, and even you couldn’t decipher the thoughts darting through your mind. 

“I will accept your terms. Midgard will have a voice during the trial of Loki.”

“Are you insane?” Dolphe seethed, his tone making the words sound like more of a statement than a question of sanity. 

Smith shrugged, batting Dolphe's hand from the button with more than a degree of annoyance. “(Y/n), you ever want to visit Asgard?”

_Maybe on vacation,_ you thought. _And not with_ him.

“Did you even run this by the Director?”

Smith coughed, dismissing Dolphe with a waggle of his thick fingers. “Good luck getting anything through to the Director in our current situation,” he grumbled. “I'm making an executive decision.”

“She's barely an agent! At least have the decency to go yourself. You are the leader of this taskforce,” Dolphe cried, flinging hands in the air in exasperation. 

“Agent Dolphe, I think you need to excuse yourself. Your presence here is unnecessary, as you are _not on this taskforce_ , and, therefore, have no say in _taskforce affairs.”_ He turned his back on the disgruntled agent, at last, to address you. 

“So, it's settled then? (Y/n), you will accompany Thor and the prisoner to Asgard to await the verdict of Loki's trial.”

“No,” Loki interjected coldly, making direct eye contact with Smith through the two-way glass. “Send the girl and I will make every effort to eradicate her before we even step into the bifrost.”

Once again, there it was. That feeling, that nagging spark of a feeling that appeared when you knew you shouldn't want to do something, but the temptation was too great. His reaction was bait enough for you.

But was that it? Was it curiosity, or foolishness? Perhaps both?

“I'll do it.” 

Dolphe crossed the room to where you were still sitting, gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn towards him. “He just made a direct threat on your life,” he snapped. “I've come to expect these rash decisions from Agent Smith, but you-” he shook his head, retrieving his hand and shoving it deep into his pocket- “this is beyond reckless.”

You rose to your feet silently, tilting your head up so that you could level your gaze with Dolphe. It was eerie, and not something you wanted to think about, but you were starting to see not-so-subtle differences between Loki's imitation and the genuine article. The most telling were the eyes. That night, in your apartment...you could've sworn his eyes had been a soft bluish gray. Standing in front of you now, set in a rigid scowl and framed by slanted brows, Dolphe's hazel eyes burned through you, bronze flecks scattered throughout his irises like shattered stars. 

_Guess Loki hadn't paid too much attention to Dolphe's finer features,_ you thought glumly, as the pit of your stomach sunk deeper than you ever thought it could. 

You took a bracing breath, and you had to mentally rewind to when the last time you spoke with the real Dolphe face-to-face was. The day of your suspension. The same day that Loki came to your door disguised as him.

You felt sick, but Dolphe's demeanor was enough to pull you to your senses. 

“I am perfectly capable of seeing this mission through, and as a fully fledged S.H.I.E.LD agent,” you responded drily, arching a brow and challenging him to refute you. You pushed passed him, trying not to flinch as your shoulder scraped by his arm. He stayed rigid, not turning to follow you, and a few seconds later you heard the interrogation room door slam shut. You felt guilty for being so stern with him; once again, none of this was his fault. He had done nothing but look out for you, ever since your very first day. That being said...the smallest wave of relief washed over you as he left. You could barely stand to look at his likeness. 

“He does make a point,” Smith started slowly. “Even I'm not taking this lightly. There are others I can find for this assignment; however, it would be untruthful to tell you that, because of your history with the prisoner, you're not my first choice. I need you to be absolutely sure that this is a risk you are willing to take, agent.”

_Agent._

_I'm an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D._

_I can do this. I'm the first choice for a high stakes mission to another realm? Unreal._

_It would be foolish to say no._

_Right?_

“I said I'm in.” You nodded, noting Smith's pursed lips and loosely crossed arms. 

“Very well.” He whipped out his phone and spent a few minutes typing something with his pudgy fingers, before pocketing it and leaning against the wall. 

“I'm sending you with a packet of information on the multiple events that Loki has been associated with on Earth. Stuttgart, New York City, even a previous S.H.I.E.L.D HQ; there are pictures and eyewitness accounts that outline the havoc that he wrought.” He lumbered over to where you stood, his beady eyes never leaving yours. “I want you to make Asgard painfully aware of what this monster did here. He's not getting off easy, do you hear me?”

You nodded slightly, still not sure of what this journey would bring. 

"I believe you mortals use the phrase 'time is of the essence', yes?" Thor squared his shoulders towards the glass, and Loki rolled his eyes. "I will not wait for long, though I know how mortal women can be. Sometimes, it took Jane hours to do her hair and makeup and...." He continued to rant, until his voice was just background noise to you. 

Something tickled at the back of your mind, and you walked slowly towards the right of the glass window, trying to ignore the slight movement of Loki's head in your peripherals as he turned to watch you. Silently, and as discreetly as possible, you pressed two fingers to the wall, trying to dismiss the feeling that told you that what you were touching was solid wall. 

Distraught as you had been, you remembered what you had seen. Loki had walked straight through _this_ wall- another illusion. Him being chained in the interrogation room must've been a deception as well.

Nothing was real.

You closed your eyes, still pushing with your fingers, until you felt them slip through thin air. Your eyes shot open in surprise, and you stared at the fizzling green space in the wall in awe, twisting your fingers in and out of what should've been solid matter. You stole a glance towards Loki. His head tilted away from you just then, but his posture was rigid, his jaw tightly set. Once you were satisfied he knew you knew his secret, you withdrew your fingers, stuffing them into the pocket of your pants. 

"...and even _then_ she would still end up putting her hair up halfway through the night, although I can't argue a hair ties' usefulness..."

You turned on your heel, walking in a brisk pace for the door. Smith followed.


End file.
